ying with his hair.
His head lay on her lap, his blue eyes gazing up into her large grey
ones.

"Because, as I told you, I have a strong inkling that way--at any rate,
for some time to come. It is wholly lamentable, but, I'm afraid,
inevitable."

She bent her head--her beautiful stately head--drooped her lips to his
and kissed them passionately.

"Eustace, Eustace, my darling--my very life! Why do I love you like
this!"

"Because you can't help it, my sweet one!" he answered, returning her
kisses with an ardour equalling her own.

"Why did I give way so soon? Why did I give way at all? As you say,
because I couldn't help it--because--in short, because it was _you_.
You drew me out of myself--you forced me to love you, forced me to.
Ah-h! and how I love you!"

The quiver in her tones would not be entirely suppressed. Even he had
hardly suspected the full force of passion latent within this woman,
only awaiting the magic touch to blaze forth into bright flame. And his
had been the touch which had enkindled it.

"You have brought more than a Paradise into my life," he replied, his
glance holding hers as he looked up into her radiant eyes. "Tell me,
did you never suspect, all these months, that I only _lived_ when in the
halo-influence of your presence?"

"I knew it."

"You knew it?"

"Of course I did," she answered with a joyous laugh, taking his face
between her hands and kissing it again. "I should have been no woman if
I had not. But, I have kept my secret better than you. Yes, my secret.
I have been battling against your influence far harder than you have
against mine, and you have conquered." He started, and a look of
something like dismay came into his face.

"If that is so, you witching enchantress, why did you not lift me out of
my torment long ago," he said. "But the worst is this. Just think what
opportunities we have missed, what a long time we have wasted which
might have been--Heaven."

"Yet, even then, it may be better as things have turned out. My love--
my star--I could die with happiness at this moment. But," and then to
the quiver of joy in her voice succeeded an intonation of sadness,
"but--I suppose this world does not contain a more wicked woman than
myself. Tell me, Eustace," she went on, checking whatever remark he
might have been about to make, "tell me what you think. Shall we not
one day be called upon to suffer in tears and bitterness for this
entrancingly happy