Something of her agitation had entered into him. A great quiver went
through him also. But--"You're not," he said quietly, with conviction.

A trembling hand strayed upwards, feeling over his neck and throat,
groping for his face. "Rufus"--again came the tense whisper--"how do you
know that?"

He took the wandering hand and pressed it softly against his cheek.
"Because you don't love me, Columbine," he said.

"Ah!" A low sob escaped her; she lifted her head suddenly; the tears
were running down her face. "But--but--you could teach me, Rufus. You
could teach me what love--true love--is. I want the real thing--the real
thing. Will you give it to me? I want it--more than anything else in
the world." She drew nearer to him with the words, like a frozen
creature seeking warmth, and in a moment her arms were slipping round
his neck. "You are so true--so strong!" she sobbed. "I want to forget--I
want to forget that I ever loved--any one but you."

His arms were close about her again. He pressed her so hard against his
heart that she felt its strong beating against her own. His eyes gazed
straight into hers, and in them she saw again that deep, deep blue as of
flaming spirit.

"You mean it?" he said.

Breathlessly she answered him. "Yes, I mean it."

"Then"--he bent his great head to her, and for the fraction of a moment
she saw the meteor-like flash of his smile--"yes, I'll teach you,