him. He found himself of a sudden endowed with a painful
appreciation of his own imperfections, the littleness of his ego,
the inherent coarseness of his masculine fiber, the poor futility
of his ways, contrasted with her perfections. He felt as if
rebuked for some unwarrantable presumption.... For he had looked
into eyes that were windows of a soul; and the soul was that of a
child, unsullied and immaculate.

You may smile; but as for Maitland, he deemed it no laughing
matter. From that moment his perception was clear that, whatever
she might claim to be, however damning the circumstances in which
she appeared to him, there was no evil in her.

But what he did not know, and did not even guess, was that, from
the same instant, his being was in bondage to her will. So Love
comes, strangely masked.



IV


MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S MADNESS

At length, awed and not a little shamefaced, "I beg your pardon,"
he stammered wretchedly.

"For what?" she demanded quickly, head up and eyes light.

"For insisting. It wasn't--ah--courteous. I'm sorry."