o him.

For if the girl herself suspected and dreaded whither her loyalty and
deep devotion to him might lead her, he had realised very suddenly
what his leadership meant in such a companionship.

Now it sobered him, awed him,--and chilled him a trifle.

Himself, his own love for her, his own passion he could control and in
a measure subdue. But, once awakened, could he control such an ally as
she might be to his own lesser, impatient and hot-headed self?

Where her disposition was to deny, he could still fetter self and
acquiesce. But he began to understand that half his strength lay in
her unwillingness; half of their safety in her inexperience, her
undisturbed tranquillity, her aloofness from physical emotion and her
ignorance of the mastery of the lesser passions.

The girl had builded wholesomely and wisely for herself. Instinct had
led her truly and well as far as that tangled moment in her life.
Instinct still would lead her safely if she were let alone,--instinct
and the intelligence she herself had developed. For the ethical view
of the question remained only as a vague memory of precepts mechanical
and meaningless to a healthy child. She had lost her mother too early
to have understood the casual morals so gently inculcated. And nobody
else had told her anything.

Also intelligence is often a foe to instinct. She might, with little
persuasion accept an unconventional view of life; with a little
emotional awakening she might more easily still be persuaded to a
logic builded on false foundations. Add to these her ardent devotion
to this man, and her deep and tender concern lest he be unhappy, and
Athalie's chances for remaining her own mistress were slim enough.

Something of this Clive seemed to understand; and the understanding
left him very serious and silent where he stood in the soft glow of
the lamp with this young girl in his arms and her warm, sweet head on
his breast.

He said after a long silence: "You are right, Athalie. It is better,
safer, not to respond to me. I'm just in love with you and I want to
marry you--that's all. I shall not be unhappy about it. I am not, now.
If I marry you, you'll fall in love, too, in your own way. That will
be as it should be. I could desire no more than that. I _do_ desire
nothing more."

He looked down at her, smiled, releasing her gently. But she clung to
him for a moment.

"You are so wonderful, Clive--so dear! I _do_ love you. I will marry
you if I ca