He was very deeply in love, more deeply in love than he had ever been in his life, or had ever thought to be with a very young girl, since his salad days were long since over. He was of an ardent temperament, and previous loves had burnt themselves out without ever coming to the point of a strong desire for matrimony. But this time it was coming to that, if he could win himself any response from this intoxicating, tormenting, elusive creature, whose image had imprinted itself so deeply on his inward vision that he walked the earth or sailed the seas with it ever before him. He was masterful in his ways, and his wooing, when once he had made up his mind, was direct. But he would never propose to her, if he wooed her for ten years, unless he gained some sign of love from her. He wanted the whole of her, for his very own. It was like heady wine to him to think of her with him always, in spirit if not in body. All he would have, all he would do, would be hers, but she must make it so first, and she must give him back all that was in her, all the endless treasures of her mind and her spirit, which thrilled him afresh every time he brought a new one to light. He had never felt like that about any woman before, and he exulted in the strength of his passion, and the new things about love that it was teaching him. They were all good things, and made the cleanest of his past loves seem like mere sensuality. It would be the true, deathless marriage, if he could win her. Beatrix was far from suspecting on what a pedestal of adoration he had set her. It hardly showed in the way he treated her, which was masterful and encroaching. She knew she was being stormed, and rather enjoyed it, but she did not know how the weather would change, if she surrendered. Then there would be a deep enduring calm, and strength in which she could rest herself. If she surrendered! She was nowhere near it at present. "I want you to tell me about that fellow you were in love with." She turned a little pale at the shock, and stood still on the grassy path down which they were wandering towards the yew-enclosed lily pond. She was used to his abrupt attacks, and had nerved herself to meet one, as he had walked silent by her side. But she had not expected anything like this. Her momentary pallor was succeeded by a deep blush, as she looked up at him with protesting eyes. He met her gaze, and adored her afresh because she did not look down. "Really, I'm not going to talk to you about that," she said indignantly. He went on, and after a moment's hesitation she went with him, though her inclination was to turn back. But she never ran away from anything. "Why not?" he asked. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I want to know how much you cared for him."