Elizabeth Royal that she had powers of fascination. It was possible that
Edmonson understood her, for his observations, though not openly
expressed like Sir Temple Dacre's, were more pertinent. But this seemed
to him an opportunity not to be lost. "The voice that soothes the wounds
of vanity is always welcome," he mused. "I only meant that it pleased me
to talk with you," he answered. "I had no intention of gilding refined
gold. As you so frankly conclude I have an axe to grind, there is no
reason why I should hide the fact. But you can not grind it, else I
should come to you. I am equal to that. And he looked at her, first with
a cool audacity in his eyes, which he knew she would meet; and then as
he held her gaze with a sudden softening from which she turned away.

"Then, if I can not, why don't you ask some one who can, Colonel
Archdale, for instance? He likes to be obliging--that is, I take it for
granted he does."

"Perhaps I shall." They had left the water now and were following the
path up toward the house. There was a pause. "The air of this place does
not agree with you," he began abruptly, "You are much paler than when
you came."

"I am happy to say it is quite the contrary with you," she answered.
"Our sea breezes have given you the hue of health."

"Yes, that--and other things. You turn away from any reference to your
self, but you can never prevent my caring more for your welfare than for
anything else in the world." He was speaking softly in tones that were
deep with earnestness. There was no doubt that in some way she did
fascinate him.