He turned and gazed at her with his haggard eyes. “I will do anything for you,” she rushed on. “You shall have me! I will be your wife!” Then, however, as he clasped her to him, there came once more the shrinking. “Only give me a little time, dear,” she whispered. “Let me get used to it. Let it come naturally.” But the only way he could have given her time would have been to go away. Here he was, in her room--with every reminder of her about him, with every incitement to his desire. And he had but two things to choose between--to go out and walk and think about her, or to come home and sit with her and talk about their love. They had their supper, and then again she was in his arms. He told her about this trouble--he showed how the love of her was consuming him. Far into the night they sat talking, and he poured out his heart to her, he bore her with him to the mountain-tops of his desire. He took down a book of Spenser’s, and read her the “Epithalamium”; he read her Shelley’s “Epip sychidion,” which they both loved. All the power of Thyrsis’ genius was turned now to passion, and the hidden forces of him were revealed as never had they been revealed to her before. He became eloquent; he talked to her as he had lived with himself; he awed her and frightened her, as he had that evening upon the hill-top. Then at last, as the tide of his feeling swept him away again, he clasped her to him tightly, and hid his face in her neck. “I love you! Oh, I love you!” he cried. She had sunk back and closed her eyes. “My Thyrsis!” she whispered. “You love me?” he asked. “You are quite sure?” “I am quite sure!” she said. He kissed her; again and again he kissed her, until he had made sure of her desire. Then suddenly, he began with trembling fingers to unfasten the neck of her dress. For a moment she did not comprehend what he meant. Then she gave a start. “Thyrsis!” she cried. And she sprang up, staring at him with fright in her eyes. “What is it?” he asked. “Thyrsis!” she gasped. “What--what were you going to do?” And at her question, shame swept over him. He was horrified at himself. How could he find words to tell her what he had been going to do? He turned away with a moan, and put his hands over his face. “Oh God, I can’t stand this!” he exclaimed. Suddenly he went to his hat and coat. “I must go out!” he said. “What do you mean?” cried Corydon. “I mean I’ve got to go somewhere!” he replied. “I can’t stand it--I can’t stay here.” “Thyrsis!” she cried, wildly. And she sprang to him and flung her arms about him. “No, no!” she cried. “No!” “But what am I to do?” “Wait! Wait!” And she pressed him tightly to her. “Thyrsis!” she whispered. “Can’t you understand? Don’t be so stupid, dear!” “Stupid!” “Yes, sweetheart--can’t you see? I’m only a child! And it’s so strange! It frightens me! Try to realize how I feel!” “But what am I to do?”