stable persons for a man of our days to bind his life to one of them.
Harness is harness, and a light yoke-fellow can make a proud career
deviate.'

'But I give her a soul!' said Alvan. 'I am the wine, and she the crystal
cup. She has avowed it again and again. You read her as she is when away
from me. Then she is a reed, a weed, what you will; she is unfit to
contend when she stands alone. But when I am beside her, when we are
together--the moment I have her at arms' length she will be part of me by
the magic I have seen each time we encountered. She knows it well.'

'She may know it too well.'

'For what?' He frowned.

'For the chances of your meeting.'

'You think it possible she will refuse?'

A blackness passing to lividness crossed his face. He fetched a big
breath.

'Then finish my history, shut up the book; I am a phantom of a man, and
everything written there is imposture! I can account for all that she has
done hitherto, but not that she should refuse to see me. Not that she
should refuse to see me now when I come armed to demand it! Refuse? But I
have done my work, done what I said I would do. I stand in my order of
battle, and she refuses? No! I stake my head on it! I have not a clod's
perception, I have not a spark of sense to distinguish me from a
flat-headed Lapp, if she refuses:--call me a mountebank who has gained
his position by clever tumbling; a lucky gamester; whatever plays blind
with chance.'

He started up in agitation. 'Lucie! I am a grinning skull without a brain
if that girl refuses! She will not.' He took his hat to leave, adding, to
seem rational to the cool understanding he addressed: 'She will not
refuse; I am bound to think so in common respect for myself; I have done
tricks to make me appear a rageing ape if she--oh! she cannot, she will
not refuse. Never! I have eyes, I have wits, I am not tottering yet on my
grave--or it's blindly, if I am. I have my clear judgement, I am not an
imbecile. It seems to me a foolish suspicion that she can possibly
refuse. Her manners are generally good; freakish, but good in the main.
Perhaps she takes a sting . . . but there is no sting here. It would be
bad manners to refuse; to say nothing of . . . she has a heart! Well,
then, good manners and right feeling forbid her to refuse. She is an
exceedingly intelligent girl, and I half fear I have helped you to a
wrong impression of her. You will really appreciate her wit; you will
indeed; believe