"You will marry, Sir Edgar. All the Trevelyans of Crown Anstey marry, as becomes the head of a grand old family. You will marry, and your wife will be the happiest woman in the world." "I may be a modern Bluebeard, Coralie." "No; you will not. Ah, me! To go away and leave Crown Anstey--to leave you--I shall feel like Eve driven forth from Paradise to die." My hand lay carelessly on the back of a chair. She bent down swiftly and laid her burning lips upon it. I would not tell--my face flames as I write the word--but unless you know all, reader, you will not understand my story. She laid her warm, soft lips upon it! And though I did not love her--did not even trust her--the magnetic touch thrilled every nerve. I took my hand away. "Ah, cousin!" she said, looking at me with those dark, dangerous eyes, "you love even your dog Hector better than me." She was so near to me that the perfume from her flowers reached me. It was by a desperate effort I broke the spell. "This room is insufferably warm," I said; "I am going into the garden. You had better see if Clare wants anything, Coralie." So, like many another man, I ran away, not knowing how to meet my fair adversary on equal grounds. CHAPTER VIII. Walking among the whispering leaves, the conclusion I came to was that I must take some precaution, or Coralie d'Aubergne would marry me whether I was willing or not. A siren is a faint shadow compared with a beautiful woman resolved to win a man whether he wants winning or not. Why not risk my fate and ask Agatha to be my wife? There was a faint hope in my heart that she would not refuse me, yet she was so modest, so retiring, that though I had most perseveringly sought her favor since the first moment I had seen her, I could not tell whether she cared for me or not. To judge by Coralie's standard, she did not like me. In all our conversation it half maddened me to see the lovely eyes I loved so dearly dropped shyly away from me. It may not be a very elegant comparison, but she always reminded me of some shy, beautiful bird. She had a bright, half-startled way of looking at me. Several times, when I met her suddenly, I saw the lovely face flush and the little hands tremble. Did she love me or did she not? I could not tell. Of whom should I take counsel? There was a bird singing over me; I wondered if that sweet night-song was all of love. Alas! that I had not been more into the world of women--their ways and fashions were all mysteries to me. "Faint heart never won fair lady," says the old proverb, and it ran through my mind. I resolved to try my fortune. If she did not love me, why then, life held nothing more for me. If I could not win her I would never ask the love of woman more, but live out my life with Clare. Like many other anxious lovers, I lay awake all night, wondering what I should say to her, how I should woo her, in what words I should ask her to be my wife. When day dawned I was still undecided, only that it was to be.