how to be attuned to this pale mysterious flame of the moon that
flooded the heavens.

All the dim, intense happiness she first experienced two nights before
had blazed up within her into a conflagration, the nature of which there
was no mistaking, while the dim and almost intenser doubts and miseries
of two nights before she saw now to be but the shadows cast by the first
kindling of the other light. Now, as it blazed higher and more
triumphantly, the shadows vanished. And though her consciousness of this
was so vivid and alert, self-consciousness was almost altogether
banished. She no longer made plans for herself in the future, as she had
always done till now, seeing herself as the mistress of a great house,
and filling that position, as, indeed, she was fitted to do, so well, or
seeing herself always kind, always pleasant, always ready to smile on
her adorer. Nor did she even see herself as mother of his children. She
lost sight of herself altogether just now, and saw him only, but in
that different light in which he had appeared so suddenly, so
disconcertingly, at the ball two nights ago.

And he had wished, had preferred to come out here with her rather than
go indoors and play billiards. Daisy, in a sudden mood of that exquisite
humbleness which goes with love, blushed with pleasure that it should be
so, but told herself that it was an incredible thing. Yet so it was. He
would sooner have come out here (for he had said it) and talked to this
goose of a girl than be with anybody else, even Aunt Jeannie. Daisy
wished she had told Aunt Jeannie on the afternoon of her arrival what
was the state of things between her and Lord Lindfield, for it was
really rather too much of a good thing that Aunt Jeannie (the darling)
should all innocently monopolize him the whole afternoon, drive down
with him alone (taking hours and hours over it), and as soon as dinner
was over (at which meal she sat next him) take him away to play
billiards. But she had let that opportunity slip, and though she had
hoped to tell Jeannie about it to-night she would not be able, since her
aunt had cried off a bedroom talk on the plea of tiredness.

And then, quite suddenly, a thought occurred to Daisy of the most
disagreeable kind. Aunt Jeannie had been too tired to talk to her, had
meant to slip away and tumble into bed as soon as possible, yet within
five minutes of her having made that declaration she had engaged herself
to play pool and to foll