and him eventually at Hymen's feet. And
here he found all such theories suddenly reversed. The first moment
the idea of marriage was presented to his notice the vision of the
only possible bride for him stood out with quite definite
distinctness. Instead of Love being a prelude to the thought of
Marriage, that thought had been the crashing chords that had opened
his mind to Love. But the Love had been already there, unrecognised.
He found he could no way now imagine himself as apart from Patricia.
To eliminate her presence from his heart was to lose part of his
individuality; to separate his practical life from her was as if he
wantonly destroyed a limb. Away from her actual presence and before
this dual conception of themselves he was of assured courage,
thankfulness and strange joy, but the moment his thoughts flew to her
in concrete form, to Patricia Connell at Marden Court, he experienced
a reversion: his confidence was gone, the assured vision became a very
far-away possibility, a glory which he might hardly hope to attain.

Very slowly this latter aspect blotted out the first triumphant joy of
his discovery. Mundane things, such as Renata Aston's wishes, Caesar's
consent, and even the person of Geoffry Leverson interposed between
Patricia and him. This mood had its sway and in turn succumbed to an
awakening of his dormant will and every fighting instinct. Patricia
must be his, was his potentially, but he recognised she was not his
for the asking. He would have to acquire the right to say to Caesar, "I
want to marry Mrs. Aston's sister." Aymer might easily make the way
smooth for him, if he would. He had no reason then for believing he
would oppose the idea. Yet Christopher knew that in the gamut of
possible needs and desires the one thing he could not freely accept
from Caesar's hands was his wife. His life was before him, before
Patricia too. When he reached this point in his deliberation he made a
sudden movement. The fire had gone out and it was very cold.
Christopher decided it was time to go to bed.

CHAPTER XV

Jessie proved by no means averse to "gadding about," as her mother
expressed it. She and Mrs. Sartin turned up punctually at Aston House,
though laden with an air of desperate resolve. On their way they had
both cheerfully concealed some tremulous qualms and neither had
ventured to express a dormant wish that Mr. Christopher had chosen
some other spot for lunch than the lordly, sombre, half