s a detail
he failed to realise. Beyond the sudden bewildering sensations that
prompted his headlong proposal to Tara, he had not felt seriously
perturbed by girl or woman; and, in the past four years, life had been
filled to overflowing with other things----

That he should love Aruna, deeply and dearly, seemed as simple and
natural, as loving Tara. But to fall in love was a risk he had no right
to run, either for himself or her. Yet the risk had been run before he
awoke to the fact. And the events and emotions of Dewali night had drawn
them irresistibly, dangerously close together. For the racial ferment
had been strong in him, as in her. And the darkness, the subtle
influence of his Indian dress--her tears--her danger! How could any man,
frankly loving her, not be carried a little out of himself? That
overmastering impulse to kiss her had startlingly revealed the true
forces at work.

After all that, what could he do, but sharply apply the curb and remove
himself--for a time--in the devout hope that 'things' had not gone too
far? He had not the assurance to suppose she was already in love with
him; but patently the possibility was there.

So--like Thea--he had come to see the Delhi inspiration in a new and
surprising light. Setting forth in search of Dyan, he was, in effect,
running away from himself--and Aruna, no less. If not actually in love,
he very soon would be--did he dare to let himself go.

And why not--why _not_? The old unreasoning rebellion stirred in him
afresh. His mother being gone, temptation tugged the harder. Home,
without the Indian element, was almost unthinkable. If only he could
take back Aruna! But for him there could be no 'if.' He had tacitly
given his word--to _her_. And in any case there was his father--the
Sinclair heritage--So all his fine dreams of helping Aruna amounted to
this--that it was he who might be driven, in the end, to hurt her more
than any of them. Life that looked such a straight-ahead business for
most people, seemed to bristle with pitfalls and obstacles for him; all
on account of the double heritage that was at once his pride, his
inspiration, and his stone of stumbling.

* * * * *

Endless wakeful hours of the night journey were peopled with thoughts
and visions of Aruna--her pansy face and velvet-soft eyes, now flashing
delicate raillery, now lifted in troubled appeal. A rainbow
creature--that was the charm of her. Not beautiful--h