s
of anxiety. She was terrified lest he should do or say something in bad
taste, and that she would see her own impression confirmed on the faces
of others. She put it to herself that she was afraid people would not
understand him as she did. The history of his past life, as he had
related it to her, appealed overpoweringly to all that was womanly and
protective in her nature. He was emotional by temperament, but
circumstance had doomed him to repression and solitude. This call on her
sympathy did more than anything to set Hadria's mind at rest. She gave a
vast sigh when that feeling of confidence became confirmed. Life, then,
need no longer be ridiculous! Hard and cruel it might be, full of lost
dreams, but at least there would be something in it that was perfect.
This new emotional centre offered the human _summum bonum_: release from
oneself.

Hadria and the Professor met, one morning, in the gardens of the Priory.
Hadria had been strolling down the yew avenue, her thoughts full of him,
as usual. She reached the seat at the end where once Professor Fortescue
had found her--centuries ago, it seemed to her now. How different was
_this_ meeting! Professor Theobald came by the path through the thick
shrubberies, behind the seat. There was a small space of grass at the
back. Here he stood, bending over the seat, and though he was usually
prudent, he did not even assure himself that no one was in sight, before
drawing Hadria's head gently back, and stooping to kiss her on the
cheek, while he imprisoned a hand in each of his. She flushed, and
looked hastily down the avenue.

"I wonder what our fate would be, if anyone had been there?" she said,
with a little shudder.

"No one was there, darling." He stood leaning over the high back of the
seat, looking down at his companion, with a smile.

"Do you know," he said, "I fear I shall have to go up to town to-morrow,
for the day."

Hadria's face fell. She hated him to go away, even for a short time; she
could not endure her own thoughts when his influence was withdrawn. His
presence wrapped her in a state of dream, a false peace which she
courted.

"Oh no, no," she cried, with a childish eagerness that was entirely
unlike her, "don't go."

"Do you really care so very much?" he asked, with a deep flush of
pleasure.

"Of course I do, of course." Her thoughts wandered off through strange
by-ways. At times, they would pass some black cavernous entrance to
unknown labyrint