But as she ceased to speak, she abruptly realized that the effect of her words was other than she intended. He had listened to her with a rigid patience, but as her words went into silence it seemed as if the iron will by which till then he had held himself in check had suddenly snapped. He stood for a second or two longer with an odd smile on his face and that in his eyes which startled her into a momentary feeling that was almost panic; then with a single, swift movement he bent and caught her to him. "And you think that counts!" he said. "You think that anything on earth counts--but this!" His lips were upon hers as he ended, stopping all protest, all utterance. He kissed her hotly, fiercely, holding her so pressed that above the wild throbbing of her own heart she felt the deep, strong beat of his. His action was passionate and overwhelming. She would have withstood him, but she could not; and there was that within her that rejoiced, that exulted, because she could not. Yet as at last his lips left hers, she turned her face aside, hiding it from him that he might not see how completely he had triumphed. He laughed a little above her bent head; he did not need to see. "Stella, you and I have got to sink or swim together. If you won't have success with me, then I will share your failure." She quivered at his words; she was clinging to him almost without knowing it. "Oh, no! Oh, no!" she said. His hand came gently upwards and lay upon her head. "My dear, that rests with you. I have sworn that marriage to me shall not mean bondage. If India is any obstacle between us, India will go." "Oh, no!" she said again. "No, Everard! No!" He bent his face to hers. His lips were on her hair. "You love me, Stella," he said. She was silent, her breathing short, spasmodic, difficult. His cheek pressed her forehead. "Why not own it?" he said softly. "Is it--so hard?" She lifted her face swiftly; her arms clasped his neck. "And if--if I do,--will you let me go?" she asked him tremulously. The smile still hovered about his lips. "No," he said. "It is madness," she pleaded desperately. "It is--Kismet," he made answer, and took her face between his hands looking deeply, steadily, into her eyes. "Your life is bound up with mine. You know it. Stella, you know it." She uttered a sob that yet was half laughter. "I have done my best," she said. "Why are you so--so merciless?" "You surrender?" he said. She gave herself to the drawing of his hands. "Have I any choice?" "Not if you are honest," he said. "Ah!" She coloured rather painfully. "I have at least been honest in trying to keep you from this--this big mistake. I know you will repent it. When this--fever is past, you will regret--oh, so bitterly."