Kate had never seen him thus before, and Kate must have seen him in every phase of his character. Yes, in every phase of his character. In every phase of his character--save one. She had never seen him in love before. He had been very much in love with her a few days ago. He showed it in all his acts, he told her so in plain words a hundred times, and yet Kate did not _then_ say she had never seen George's general manner such before. It was only since this change towards her came that Kate noticed the unfamiliar manner. Kate had never seen him in love before, and yet a week ago his general manner had not been changed by love. What had changed his particular manner towards her and his general manner to those around? Had he repented of his hasty love-making? Had he repented? No doubt he had been hasty. Did he now think he had been rash? Ah, that was a thing to ponder over, but not now, not now. George had come back; that was the great matter now. But how different he was from what he had been only a few days ago! Then he had made royal warm love to her, and she had sat in the sunshine of his love, content and rich. Now she was going with Kate on a visit to his home, to see the place in which his nature had expanded and developed. She had pictured to herself that home for their own home. He had made a sketch of it, and she had filled in the sketch. There was to be no romance in their future, but that divinest of all earthly romance, the romance of wedded love. He was, outside the ordinary duties of his position, to devote himself to her. He was not to make a goddess of her, but she was to share all things with him. What was he sharing with her now? Ah well, perhaps when she got down to the country, out of this worrying city, he would tell her all, share his secret with her, instead of imposing this strange cold gloom. Why did he not come to her and tell her what his trouble was? Even if it were she, it would be better for him to come and tell her boldly, and she would know what to do. She should then merely tell O'Connor to pack up, and they could go away--whither she cared not, so long as he was relieved. Men talked about dying for women they loved. She would live in any misery, if living could do him any good. He was lord of her, and she was his slave. He had to order, she to obey. She did not want kind words or gentle consideration. She would be satisfied with anything, so long as he was happy. He was her lord and master. He should be her lord and master until her heart had ceased to beat. She would have no other lord or master, no other all her life. Why did he not come to her and tell her what was the matter, that she might lay her heart at his feet? She wanted him only to show her what sacrifice of hers could ease him in any way.