ame from him--"aren't you conscious every minute, of the perfection of
the creature of whom I've put you into possession?"

"Every minute--gratefully conscious. But that's exactly the ground of
my question. It wasn't only a matter of your handing me over--it was a
matter of your handing her. It was a matter of HER fate still more than
of mine. You thought all the good of her that one woman can think of
another, and yet, by your account, you enjoyed assisting at her risk."

She had kept her eyes on him while he spoke, and this was what, visibly,
determined a repetition for her. "Are you trying to frighten me?"

"Ah, that's a foolish view--I should be too vulgar. You apparently can't
understand either my good faith or my humility. I'm awfully humble,"
the young man insisted; "that's the way I've been feeling to-day, with
everything so finished and ready. And you won't take me for serious."

She continued to face him as if he really troubled her a little. "Oh,
you deep old Italians!"

"There you are," he returned--"it's what I wanted you to come to. That's
the responsible note."

"Yes," she went on--"if you're 'humble' you MUST be dangerous."

She had a pause while he only smiled; then she said: "I don't in the
least want to lose sight of you. But even if I did I shouldn't think it
right."

"Thank you for that--it's what I needed of you. I'm sure, after all,
that the more you're with me the more I shall understand. It's the
only thing in the world I want. I'm excellent, I really think, all
round--except that I'm stupid. I can do pretty well anything I SEE. But
I've got to see it first." And he pursued his demonstration. "I don't
in the least mind its having to be shown me--in fact I like that better.
Therefore it is that I want, that I shall always want, your eyes.
Through THEM I wish to look--even at any risk of their showing me what I
mayn't like. For then," he wound up, "I shall know. And of that I shall
never be afraid."

She might quite have been waiting to see what he would come to, but she
spoke with a certain impatience. "What on earth are you talking about?"

But he could perfectly say: "Of my real, honest fear of being 'off'
some day, of being wrong, WITHOUT knowing it. That's what I shall always
trust you for--to tell me when I am. No--with you people it's a sense.
We haven't got it--not as you have. Therefore--!" But he had said
enough. "Ecco!" he simply smiled.

It was not to be concealed that he w