This flower of wonderful bloom he had found by chance in such a poor, rough garden, was it not better to carry it gently to some sheltered spot, to transplant and keep it for his own, rather than just tear at it with a careless touch in passing by?

Hamilton had the brain of the artist and the poet; things touched him less by their reality than by that strange halo imagination throws round them.

The sound of some shuffling steps in the passage outside, a lurch as of some drunken and unsteady figure, some whispered words, and then a burst of ribald laughter just outside the door, decided him.  No:  her wedding night should not be here.  Keen in his sympathy with women, Hamilton knew how often that night recurs to a woman’s thoughts, and should its memories always bring back to her this loathsome shed, these hideous sounds?

A repulsion so great filled him that it swept back his desire for the moment.  A great eagerness to get her away unharmed, unsoiled from such a place, filled him.  Already she seemed to be part of himself, to be a possession he must guard.  His heart was empty and hungry:  by means of her beauty and this strange unexpected innocence she had so suddenly revealed to him, she had leapt into it, made it her own.  He sat down on the mean, dingy bed, and drew her warm, supple body into his arms:  she stood within their circle submissively, quivering with pleasure.  His touch was very gentle and reverent, for he was a man who knew the value of essentials; his brain was keen enough to go down to them and judge of them, undeterred and unhindered and undeceived by externals, by fictitious emblems.  He saw here that he was in the presence of a tender, youthful, unformed mind of complete innocence, and the abhorrent surroundings affected that essential not at all.

A married woman in his own rank, with her dozen lovers and her knowledge of evil, high in the favour of the world, could never have had from him the same reverence that he gave to this dancing-girl of the Deccan, who in the world’s eyes was but a creature put under his feet for him to trample on.

“Would you like to leave all these people and come to live only with me? dance only for me?” he said softly, looking into those great wondering eyes fixed in awe upon his face.

“Would you like to have a house to yourself, and a garden full of flowers, and stay there with me alone?”

The girl clasped her hands joyously, smile after smile rippled over the brilliant face.

“Oh, Sahib, it would be paradise!  If I can stay with the Sahib, I shall be happy anywhere.  I am the slave of the Sahib.  If he but use me as the mat before his door to walk upon, I shall be content.”

Hamilton shivered.  He drew her a little closer.  “Hush!  I do not like to hear you say those things.  You shall come to me and sleep in my arms, but not to-night.  Love is a very great thing:  it will be a great thing with us, and it must not be thought of lightly, do you see?  Will you stay here and think of me only till I come again?  Think of your bridal night with me, dream of me till I come back for you?”