"The dear child," he said to himself. "She does not know it, but the image of the fierce one has not faded entirely even yet--it is natural, though, that she should think of a mate. I must well examine this Englishman!" Sabine went back into the walled garden again, and sat down under the shelter of an arbour of green. She wanted to re-read a letter of Henry Fordyce's, which she had received that day by the early and only post. It was rather a perfect letter for any young woman to have got, and she knew that and valued all its literary and artistic merits. They had had long and frequent conversations in their last three days at Carlsbad, during which they had grown nearer and still better friends. His gentleness, his courtesy and diffidence were such incense to her self-esteem, considering the position of importance he held in his own country and the great place he seemed to occupy in the Princess' regard. And he was her servant--her slave--and would certainly make the most tender lover--some day! On their last afternoon, he had taken her hands and kissed them. "Sabine," he had said, with his voice trembling with emotion. "I have shown you that I can control myself, and have not made any love to you as I have longed to do. Won't you be generous, dearest, and give me some definite hope--some definite promise that, when you are free, you will give yourself to me and will be my wife----?" And she had answered--with more fervor than she really felt, because she would hide some unaccountable reluctance: "Yes--I have written to-day to my lawyer, Mr. Parsons--to advise me how to begin to take the necessary steps--and when it all goes through, then--yes--I will marry you." But she would not let him kiss her, which he showed signs of desiring to do. "You must wait until I am free, though my marriage is no tie; it has never been one--after the first year. I will tell you the whole story, if you want to hear it--but I wish to forget it all--only it is fair for you to know there is no disgrace connected with it in any way." "I should not care one atom if there were," Henry said, ecstatically. "You yourself could never have touched any disgrace. Your eyes are as pure as the stars!" "I was extremely ignorant and foolish, as one is at seventeen. And now I want to make something of life--some great thing--and your goodness and your high and fine ideals will help me." "My dearest!" he had cried fervently. Sabine had said to the Princess that night, as they talked in their sitting-room: