"Do you mean to say that you can really love a woman who hates you?" she asked, looking at one of her hands as it rested on the wall. "Of course. Why not? What has that to do with it?" The question was asked so simply and with such honest surprise that Clare looked up again. He was smiling a little sadly. "But--I don't understand--" she hesitated. "Do you think it's like a bargain?" he asked quietly. "Do you think it's a matter of exchange--'I will love you if you'll love me'? Oh no! It's not that. I can't help it. I'm not my own master. I've got to love you, whether I like it or not. But since I do--well, I've said the rest, and I won't repeat it. I've told you that I'm in earnest, and you haven't believed me. I've told you that I love you, and you won't even believe that--" "No--I can believe that, well enough, now. You do to-day, perhaps. At least you think you do." "Well--you don't believe it, then. What's the use of repeating it? If I could talk well, it would be different, but I'm not much of a talker, at best, and just now I can't put two words together. But I--I mean lots of things that I can't say, and perhaps wouldn't say, you know. At least, not just now." He turned from her and began to walk up and down across the narrow terrace, towards her and away from her, his hands in his pockets, and his head a little bent. She watched him in silence for some time. Perhaps if she had hated him as much as she said that she did, she would have left him then and gone into the house. Something, good or evil, tempted her to speak. "What do you mean, that you wouldn't say now?" she asked. "I don't know," he answered gruffly, still walking up and down, ten steps each way. "Don't ask me--I told you one thing. I shall follow you wherever you go." "And then?" asked Clare, still prompted by some genius, good or bad. "And then?" Brook stopped and stared at her rather wildly. "And then? If I can't get you in any other way--well, I'll take you, that's all! It's not a very pretty thing to say, is it?" "It doesn't sound a very probable thing to do, either," answered Clare. "I'm afraid you are out of your mind, Mr. Johnstone." "You've driven most things out of it since I loved you," answered Brook, beginning to walk again. "You've made me say things that I shouldn't have dreamed of saying to any woman, much less to you. And you've made me think of doing things that looked perfectly mad a week ago." He stopped before her. "Can't you see? Can't you understand? Can't you feel how I love you?" "Don't--please don't!" she said, beginning to be frightened at his manner again.