Oh, why is the moon Awake when thou sleepest? To the nightingale’s tune, Why is the moon Making a noon, When night is the deepest Why is the moon Awake when thou sleepest? In the evening came a little note, with a coronet on the paper, but neither date nor signature: “Perfectly delicious! How _can_ such a little gem hold so much color? Thank you a thousand times!” CHAPTER XII. LOVE. By this Walter was in love with Lady Lufa. He said as much to himself, at least; and in truth he was almost possessed with her. Every thought that rose in his mind began at once to drift toward her. Every hour of the day had a rose-tinge from the dress in which he first saw her. One might write a long essay on this they call _love,_ and yet contribute little to the understanding of it in the individual case. Its kind is to be interpreted after the kind of person who loves. There are as many hues and shades, not to say forms and constructions of love, as there are human countenances, human hearts, human judgments and schemes of life. Walter had not been an impressionable youth, because he had an imagination which both made him fastidious, and stood him in stead of falling in love. When a man can give form to the things that move in him, he is less driven to fall in love. But now Walter saw everything through a window, and the window was the face of Lufa. His thinking was always done in the presence and light of that window. She seemed an intrinsic component of every one of his mental operations. In every beauty and attraction of life he saw her. He was possessed by her, almost as some are possessed by evil spirits. And to be possessed, even by a human being, may be to take refuge in the tombs, there to cry, and cut one’s self with fierce thoughts. But not yet was Walter troubled. He lived in love’s eternal present, and did not look forward. Even jealousy had not yet begun to show itself in any shape. He was not in Lady Lufa’s set, and therefore not much drawn to conjecture what might be going on. In the glamour of literary ambition, he took for granted that Lady Lufa allotted his world a higher orbit than that of her social life, and prized most the pleasures they had in common, which so few were capable of sharing.