that possessed him; but, man of the world as he was, he loved this
little water-maiden, this fair pagan, this strange isolated girl, with
the whole force of his nature. 'Silver,' he said to her, seriously
enough, 'do you know how much I love you? I am afraid to think what
life would seem without you.'

'Why think of it, then, since I am here?' replied Silver.

'Do you know, Jarvis, I think if I had not loved you so much, you
would not have loved me, and then--it would have been--that is, I
mean--it would have been different--' She paused; unused to reasoning
or to anything like argument, her own words seemed to bewilder her.

Waring laughed, but soon grew serious again. 'Silver,' he said, taking
her into his arms, 'are you sure that you can love me as I crave?'
(For he seemed at times tormented by the doubt as to whether she was
anything more than a beautiful child.) He held her closely and would
not let her go, compelling her to meet his ardent eyes. A change came
over the girl, a sudden red flashed up into her temples and down into
her white throat. She drew herself impetuously away from her lover's
arms and fled from the room. 'I am not sure but that she is a
water-sprite, after all,' grumbled Waring, as he followed her. But it
was a pleasure now to grumble and pretend to doubt, since from that
moment he was sure.

The next morning Fog seemed unusually cheerful.

'No wonder,' thought Waring. But the character of benefactor pleased
him, and he appeared in it constantly.