And lo! of a
sudden the result had overtaken him. Had he created a monster, in place
of a beautiful woman, he had not been more at its mercy.

But why this sense of urgency? And why should he allow it to oppress
him?

Here was a creature exquisite, desirable, educated for no purpose but to
be his. Then why not declare himself, leap the last easy fence and in a
short while make her his?

To be sure her education--which, as we have seen, owned one source and
spring, the passion to make herself perfect for his sake--had fashioned
a woman very different to the woman of _his_ planning. She had built
not upon his careless defective design but upon her own incessant
instinct for the best. So much his last night's blunder had taught him.
He had sent for her as for a handmaid; and as a handmaid she had
obeyed--but in spirit as a queen.

To put it brutally, she could raise her terms, and he as a gentleman
could not beat her down. With ninety-nine women out of a hundred those
higher terms could be summed up in one word--marriage. Well and again,
why not? He was rich and his own master. In all but her poor origin
and the scandal of an undeserved punishment she was worthy--more than
worthy; and for the Colonials, among whom alone that scandal would count
against her, he had a habit of contempt. He could, and would in his
humour, force Boston to court her salons and hold its tongue from all
but secret tattle. The thought, too, of Lady Caroline at this moment
crossing the high seas to be met with the news agreeably moved him to
mirth.

But somehow, face to face here, he divined that Ruth was not as
ninety-nine women in the hundred; that her terms were different.
They might he less, but also they were more. They might be less.
Had she not crossed her arms and told him she was his slave? But in
that very humility he read that they were more. There was no last easy
fence. There was no fence at all. But a veil there was; a veil he
lacked the insight to penetrate, the brutality to tear aside.

Partly to assure himself, partly to tempt her from this mysterious ring
of defence, he went on, "I ought to apologise, too, for having sent Silk
yesterday with my message. You received it?"

She bent her head.

"My aunt and cousin invite themselves to Boston, and give me no chance
to say anything but 'Welcome.' Two pistols held to my head."
He laughed. "There's a certain downrightness in Lady Caroline.
And what do you s