life without it, troublesome and fatiguing though it
was, seemed inexpressibly dull. It had taken the colour out of
everything. It had altered the very face of nature, in her eyes. Her
hope had been to escape loneliness, but with this preposterous secret,
she was lonelier than she had ever been before. She could no longer make
a confidante of herself. She was afraid of her own ridicule, her own
blame, above all of finding herself confronted with some accusation
against the Professor, some overpowering reason for thinking poorly of
him. Whenever they met, she was in terror lest he should leave her no
alternative. She often opened conversational channels by which he could
escape his unknown peril, and she would hold her breath till it was
over. She dreaded the cool-headed, ruthless critic, lurking within her
own consciousness, who would hear of no ingenious explanations of words
or conduct. But she would not admit to this dread--that would have been
to admit everything. She had not the satisfaction of openly thinking the
matter out, for the suspicion that so profoundly saddened her, must be
kept scrupulously hidden. Hadria was filled with dismay when she dared
to glance at the future. No wonder Valeria had warned her against
playing with fire! Was it always like this when people fell in love?
What a ridiculous, uncomfortable, outrageous thing it was! How
destructive to common sense and sanity and everything that kept life
running on reasonable lines. A poor joke at best, and oh, how stale!

* * * * *

"Shall I tell you your ruling passion, Mrs. Temperley?"

"If you can, Professor Theobald."

Before them stretched a woodland glade. The broad fronds of the bracken
made bright patches of light where the sun caught them, and tall plants,
such as hemlock and wild parsley, stood out, almost white against the
shade; the flies and midges moving round them in the warmth. At some
distance behind, the sound of voices could be heard through the windings
of the wood. There were snatches of song and laughter.

"Your ruling passion is power over others."

"It has been sadly thwarted then," she answered, with a nervous laugh.

"Thwarted? Surely not. What more can you want than to touch the emotions
of every one who comes across your path? It is a splendid power, and
ought to be more satisfying to the possessor than a gift of any other
kind."

Professor Theobald waited for her reply, but she made no