of my heart. I am
dazzled. I am blinded. I believe I am possessed. When I paint my picture
--it will be such as the world has never seen."

"Hadn't you better begin it?" whispered Columbine.

He held out his hand to her--a hand that was not wholly steady. "Not
yet," he said. "The vision is too near, too wonderful. How shall I paint
the rapture that I have hardly yet dared to contemplate? Columbine!"

His voice suddenly pleaded, and as though in answer she laid her hand in
his. But she did not raise her eyes. She palpitated from head to foot
like a captured bird.

"You are not--afraid?" he whispered.

"I don't know," she whispered back. "Not of you--not of you!"

"Ah!" he said. "We are caught in the same net. There is nothing terrible
in that. The same magic is working in us both. Let it work, dear! We
understand each other. Why should there be anything to fear?"

But still she did not raise her eyes, and still she trembled in his
hold. "I never thought," she faltered, "never dreamed. Oh, is it true?"

"True that you are the most beautiful creature that this earth
contains?" he said, and his voice throbbed upon the words. "True that
the very sight of you turns my blood to fire? Aphrodite, goddess and
sorceress, do you doubt that? Wait till you see my picture, and then
ask! I have found my inspiration tonight--yes, I have found it--but it
is so immense--so overwhelming--that I cannot grasp it yet. Tonight,
dear, just for tonight--let me worship at your feet! This madness must
have its way. In the morning I shall be sane again. Tonight--tonight I
tread Olympus with the Immortals."

He was drawing her towards him, and Columbine--Columbine, who suffered
no man's hand upon her--was yielding slowly, but inevitably, to the
persuasion of his touch. Just at the last, indeed, she made a small,
wholly futile attempt to free herself; but the moment she did so his
hold became the hold of the conqueror, and with a faint laugh she flung
aside the instinct that had prompted it. The next instant, freely and
splendidly, she raised her downcast face and abandoned herself utterly
to him.

To give without stint was the impulse of her passionate, Southern
nature, and she gave freely, royally, that night. The magic that ran in
the veins of both was too compelling to be resisted. The girl, with her
half-awakened soul, the man, with his fiery thirst for beauty, were
caught in the great current that sweeps like a tidal wave around the