THE WINDOWnot tell her, but he would slip out of the house at dawnwhen they were all asleep and if he could not find ithe would go to Edinburgh and buy her another, justlike it but more beautiful. He would prove what hecould do. And as they came out on the hill and sawthe lights of the town beneath them, the lights com-ing out suddenly one by one seemed like things thatwere going to happen to him — his marriage, his chil-dren, his house; and again he thought, as they cameout on to the high road, which was shaded with highbushes, how they would retreat into solitude together;and walk on and on, he always leading her, and shepressing close to his side (as she did now). As theyturned by the cross roads he thought what an appal-ling experience he had been through, and he must tellsome one — Mrs. Ramsay of course, for it took hisbreath away to think what he had been and done.It had been far and away the worst moment of hislife when he asked Minta to marry him. He would gostraight to Mrs. Ramsay, because he felt somehowthat she was the person who had made him do it. Shehad made him think he could do anything. Nobodyelse took him seriously. But she made him believe thathe could do whatever he wanted. He had felt hereyes on him all day to-day, following him about(though she never said a word) as if she were saying,‘Yes, you can do it. I believe in you. I expect it ofyou.’ She had made him feel all that, and directly theygot back (he looked for the lights of the house abovethe bay) he would go to her and say, ‘I’ve done it,Mrs. Ramsay; thanks to you.’ And so turning into thelane that led to the house he could see lights movingabout in the upper windows. They must be awfully93