"And are you so ignorant of the meaning of things that you think, after the confession I have just made, that this will satisfy me?" he flung over his shoulder. She rose too. "I--I don't think I understand," she faltered. "I'm only a man, just a human man. I want love," he blurted out, his face still averted. "But isn't that love?" she wondered, as though thinking out a problem aloud for herself. "You are ready to sacrifice everything for me--even your life--because you love me. I am ready to sacrifice--I mean, to do and be what you would have me do and be. Isn't that love?" "No, it isn't," he bluntly answered. She grew pale, and twisted her hands tightly together. "Then--then what is it?" she breathed. Taking no notice of her, he came back to the hearth and rang the bell. Having done so, he remained with one hand on the mantel and one foot on the fender, gazing at the fire, ignoring, as it seemed, her very presence. "Hemming," said he, when his summons was answered, "will you please bring back the statue and the pedestal which I told you to take away the night Mrs. Gaunt returned?" The man departed, reappearing in a minute, with one of the other servants, and bringing in first a shaft of black marble, and then a dazzling white figure. They set up both pedestal and statue, in the open space in the centre of the bay window recess. Virginia had seated herself when she heard the mysterious order given. Gaunt remained silent until the servants had left the room. Then he moved slowly away from the fire. "Come and look at it," he said. Virginia rose, much puzzled, and went to him. They stood side by side contemplating the delicate thing. For a while she was at a loss. Then her eye fell upon the inscription which ran around the base of the figure: _Qui que tu sois, voici ton maître!_ Then the colour rushed to her face, for she remembered. "Oh! Where did you get it?" "I had it made. I thought it would complete the room." She stood in the sunlight, which poured through the window, and made a glory of her hair. Many thoughts flowed about her, many memories. Yet as he watched her narrowly, hungrily, he could see that these memories were not bitter. "How little I knew about it! How little I understood--then," she murmured presently. "Little blind girl, you understand no better now," said Gaunt. She lifted to him a solemn gaze. "Osbert, are you sure?" He put out his hands and gently turned her so that she stood facing him. "Do you suppose that, loving you as I do, I could bear to take you in my arms when I knew that you were fighting your natural inclination in order not to flinch from my touch?" he demanded.