And so, if the unthinkable were to befall him, and he were to fail to make Desire love him---- He couldn’t believe that love could ever fail to awaken love--not the kind of love he had for her; but, lest that disaster should happen and that he might prevent it from crushing him, he tried not to take the purpose of his voyage too seriously. He pretended to regard it cavalierly as an adventure. He schooled himself in the knowledge that he might not be wanted. Except for her having said, “Come to America if you really care,” he had no grounds for supposing that she would want him. Why should he be anything to her? She was only something to him because, by reason of her parentage, she had appealed powerfully to his imagination at the chivalrous period of adolescence. He had woven his dreams about her memory, clothed it with affection and brought it with him up to manhood; then, by pure accident, he had met her. She herself had warned him that he did not love the actual Desire, but the magic cloak in which he had enfolded her. Perhaps most men did that--worshiped a fantastic ideal, till they became sufficiently humble to set out in search of reality. It didn’t follow that, because the child-Desire had cared for him, the Desire of twenty was still fond of him. It was that supposition that had made him so precipitate in his own actions, and so unreasonable in his expectations of hers. She had cared for him so little that she had been in England since April and hadn’t troubled to discover him. Well, if he found that she didn’t care for him now, he would make his business the excuse for his voyage and return directly it was ended. He wasn’t going to repeat Hal’s humiliating performance and give himself hopelessly. He couldn’t, if he would. He knew that ultimately, if a woman didn’t choose to make herself important, his work would take him from her. That, at least, was his compensation for being an artist and over-sensitive: when reality had made him suffer, his dreams would again claim him. So, having assured himself many times that he was calm, he came to believe that he was fortified against disillusion and would remain unshaken by it. He was living up to her test by coming to America--proving to her beyond a doubt that he really did care. A few days would be sufficient to let him know precisely how much that meant to her. At worst, he would have enriched himself by an experience. And at best--at best, he would have gained the thing which in all the world was most precious to him.