He was a masterful man up to a certain point only.  Her humility now tapped him in a new place, and before he knew what he was about he began to run pity.

“To humiliate you so, Alice!  I am a dastard.  I am not such a dastard as you think me.  I wanted to know that you would be willing to do all these things, but I would never have let you do them.”

“I am willing to do them.”

“No, no.”  It was he who had her hands now.  “It was brutal, but I did it for you, Alice—­for you.  Don’t you see I was doing it only to make a woman of you?  You were always adorable, but in a coat of mail that would let love neither in nor out.  I have been hammering at it to break it only and free my glorious Alice.  We had to fight, and one of us had to give in.  You would have flung me away if I had yielded—­I had to win to save you.”

“Now I am lost indeed,” he was saying to himself, even as it came rushing out of him, and what appalled him most was that worse had probably still to come.  He was astride two horses, and both were at the gallop.  He flung out his arms as if seeking for something to check him.

As he did so she had started to her feet, listening.  It seemed to her that there was someone near them.

He flung out his arms for help, and they fell upon Lady Pippinworth and went round her.  He drew her to him.  She could hear no breathing now but his.

“Alice, I love you, for you are love itself; it is you I have been chasing since first love rose like a bird at my feet; I never had a passing fancy for any other woman; I always knew that somewhere in the world there must be you, and sometime this starless night and you for me.  You were hidden behind walls of ice; no man had passed them; I broke them down and love leaped to love, and you lie here, my beautiful, love in the arms of its lover.”

He was in a frenzy of passion now; he meant every word of it; and her intention was to turn upon him presently and mock him, this man with whom she had been playing.  Oh, the jeering things she had to say!  But she could not say them yet; she would give her fool another moment—­so she thought, but she was giving it to herself; and as she delayed she was in danger of melting in his arms.

“What does the world look like to you, my darling?  You are in it for the first time.  You were born but a moment ago.  It is dark, that you may not be blinded before you have used your eyes.  These are your eyes, dear eyes that do not yet know their purpose; they are for looking at me, little Alice, and mine are for looking into yours.  I cannot see you; I have never seen the face of my love—­oh, my love, come into the light that I may see your face.”

They did not move.  Her head had fallen on his shoulder.  She was to give it but a moment, and then——­But the moment had passed and still her hair pressed his cheek.  Her eyes were closed.  He seemed to have found the way to woo her.  Neither of them spoke.  Suddenly they jumped apart.  Lady Pippinworth stole to the door.  They held their breath and listened.