They went together, pacing along slowly--she meanwhile thinking of her previous walk in that same garden!--what would he, Amadis de Jocelyn, say of it and of her "mother" if he knew! He looked at her sideways now and then, curiously moved by mingled pity, admiration and desire,--the cruelty latent in every man made him long to awaken the first spark of passion in that maidenly soul,--and with the full consciousness of a powerful personality, he was perfectly aware that he could do so if he chose. But he waited, playing with the fire of his own inclinations, and talking lightly and charmingly of things which he knew would interest her sufficiently to make her, in her turn, talk to him naturally and candidly, thereby displaying more or less of her disposition and temperament. With every word she spoke he found her more and more fascinating--she had a quaint directness of speech which was extremely refreshing after the half-veiled subtleties conveyed in the often dubious conversation of the women he was accustomed to meet in society--while there was no doubt she was endowed with extraordinary intellectual grasp and capacity. Her knowledge of things artistic and literary might, perhaps, have been termed archaic, but it was based upon the principles which are good and true for all time--and as she told him quite simply and unaffectedly of her studies by herself among the old books which had belonged to the "Sieur Amadis" of Briar Farm, he was both touched and interested. "So you made quite a friend of the Sieur Amadis!" he said. "He was your teacher and guide! I'm jealous of him!" She laughed softly. "He was a spirit," she said--"You are a man." "Well, his spirit has had a good innings with you!" and, taking her hand, he drew it within his arm--"I bear his name, and it's time I came in somewhere!" She laughed again, a trifle nervously. "You think so? But you do come in! You are here with me now!" He bent his eyes upon her with an ardour he did not attempt to conceal, and her heart leaped within her--a warmth like fire ran swiftly through her veins. He heard her sigh,--he saw her tremble beneath his gaze. There was an elf-like fascination about her child-like face and figure as she moved glidingly beside him--a "belle dame sans merci" charm which roused the strongly amorous side of his nature. He quickened his steps a little as he led her down a sloping path, shut in on either side by tall trees, where there was a seat placed invitingly in the deepest shadow and where the dim uplifted moon cast but the faintest glimmer, just sufficiently to make the darkness visible. "Shall we stay here a little while?" he said, in a low tone.