“I will suffer no one to part me from Lucy,” he mused.  “She is mine.  She belongs to me, and to no other man in this world.  I will not leave her.  I might lose her; if I go away, she must go with me.  She loves me!  I know it!  I feel it!  When she sat at my side as we were driving together she was me.  Her personality melted into mine, and Lucy Lugur and Harry Hatton were one.  If I felt this, Lucy felt it.  I will tell her, and she will believe me, for I am sure she shared that wonderful transfusion of the ‘thee into me’ which is beyond all explanation, and never felt but with the one soul that is our soul.”

Thus as he walked down to the village he thrilled himself with the pictures of his own imaginings; for a passionate bewildering love, that had all the unbearable realism of a dream, held him in its unconquerable grip.  There may be men who can force themselves to be reasonable in such a condition, but Henry Hatton was not among them; and when he unexpectedly met Lucy’s father in the village, he quite forgot that the man knew nothing at all of his affection for his daughter and his intention to marry her.

“Mr. Lugur,” he cried almost joyfully, “I was looking for you, hoping to meet you, and here you are!  I am so glad!”

Lugur looked up curiously.  People did not usually address him with such pronounced pleasure, and with Henry Hatton he had not been familiar, or even friendly.  “Good evening, Mr. Hatton,” he answered, and he touched the cap set so straight and positive on his big, dark head with slight courtesy.  “Have you any affair with me, sir?” he asked.

“I have.”

“It is my busy night.  I was going home, but——­”

“Allow me to walk with you, Mr. Lugur.”

“Very well.  Talking will not hinder.  I am at your service, sir.”

[Illustration:  “He knew her for his own ... as she stood with her father at the gate of their little garden.”]

Then Henry Hatton made his heart speak words which no one could have doubted.  He was a natural orator, and he was moved by an impetuous longing, that feared nothing but its own defeat.  He told Lugur all that he had told himself, and the warmth and eagerness of his pleading touched the man deeply, though he did not interrupt him until he said, “I am going for a year’s travel, and I want to marry Lucy, and take her with me.”

Then he asked, “Have you spoken to my daughter on the subject of marriage?”

“I want your permission in order to gain hers.”

“Does she know that you love her?”

“I have not told her so.  I ask that you take me now to your home that I may speak to her this hour.”