unaccountable excitement and exaltation, during which his jumble of
impressions and sensations settled themselves, from ebullition, into
some sort of quiescence, he began to grow restlessly aware that, so far
from having had enough, he had had just a sufficient taste to make him
hunger keenly for more and more. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't help
it. And as there seemed no manner of likelihood that his hunger would
soon be fed, it was trying. At the best, he could not reasonably hope to
see her again before to-morrow; and even then--? What ghost of a reason
had he to hope that even then he could renew their conversation? He had
owed that to-day to the bare hazard of their ways lying together.
To-morrow, very likely, at the best, he might get a bow and a smile.
Very likely it might be days before he should again have anything
approaching a real talk with her. And what--a new consideration, that
struck a sudden terror to his soul--what if her visit to Frau Brandt
was to be a short one? What if to-morrow even, she were to depart? "Her
very ease in talking with me, a stranger, may quite well have been due
to the fact that she knew she would never see me again," he argued. ...
So he was working himself into a fine state of despondency, and the
world was rapidly being resolved into dust and ashes, when Heaven sent
him a diversion. Nay, indeed, Heaven sent him two diversions.




IV


There was a sound of wheels on gravel, of horses' hoofs on stone, and
Lady Blanchemain's great high-swung barouche, rolling superbly forth
from the avenue, drew up before the Castle, Lady Blanchemain