He held her hand, and his dark eyes searched her lovely face as though looking for a gleam of sympathy. “Good-bye!” he rejoined--“But not for long! Remember that! Those whom you knew in England will not recognise you now,--you will have many difficulties, and you may need a friend’s counsel--I shall follow you very soon!” “Why should you?” she asked, lightly. His grasp on her hand tightened unconsciously. “Because I must!” he answered, passionately. “Don’t you see? You draw me like a magnet!--and I cannot resist following my own exquisite creation!” She released her hand with a decided movement. “You mistake!” she said--“I am not your creation. You, of yourself, can create nothing. I am only a result of your science which you never dreamed of!--which you could not foresee!--and which you will never master! Good-bye!” She left him at once with this word, despite his last entreating call, “Diana!” and passing through the private gate to the high road, so disappeared. Like a man in a trance, he stood watching till the last glimpse of her dress had vanished--then, with a mist of something like tears in his eyes, he realised that a sudden blank loneliness had fallen upon him like a cloud. “Something I shall never master!” he repeated, as he went slowly homeward. “If woman I shall!--but if not----” And here he checked his thoughts, not daring to pursue them further. So they parted,--he more bewildered and troubled by the “success” of his experiment than satisfied,--while she, quite unconscious of any particular regret or emotion, started on her journey to England. Never had she received so much attention, and the eagerness displayed by every man she met to wait upon her and assist her in some way or other, amused her while it aroused a certain scorn. “It is only looks that move them!” she said to herself. “The same old tale!--Youth and beauty!--and never a care whether I am a good or an evil thing! And yet one is asked to ‘respect’ men!”