had appealed to him, and her other qualities--her reserved graciousness
with its tinge of dignity, her insight and her comprehension--had also
had their effect; but they had only awakened admiration and respect. He
desired her as one desires an object for its rarity and preciousness; but
this, as she had told him, was not enough. Behind her physical and mental
attributes, and half revealed by them, there was something deeper: the
real personality of the girl. It was elusive, mystic, with a spark of
immaterial radiance which might brighten human love with its transcendent
glow; but, as he dimly realized, if he won her by force, it might recede
and vanish altogether. He could not, with strong ardor, compel its
clearer manifestation.

"I think I am moved as much as it is possible for me to be."

Evelyn shook her head.

"No; you will discover the difference some day, and then you will
thank me for leaving you your liberty. Now I beg you to leave me mine
and let me go."

Vane stood silent a minute or two, for the last appeal had stirred him to
chivalrous pity. He was shrewd enough to realize that if he persisted he
could force her to come to him. Her father and mother were with him; she
had nothing--no commonplace usefulness nor trained abilities--to fall
back on if she defied them. But it was unthinkable that he should
brutally compel her.

"Well," he yielded at length, "I must try to face the situation; I want
to assure you that it is not a pleasant one to me. But there's another
point--I'm afraid I've made things worse for you. Your people will