In his heart was a subtle temptation, the voice of very love bidding him cast himself at her feet and sue but for the grace of so much human kindness as would make life without her endurable.

He remembered the self-abasement which had come upon him when he tried to tell her of his love; the offering had seemed so gross, so unworthy to be brought before her.

Would it not be the same now?
He dreaded her power to protect herself, the secret might of purity which made him shrink at her steady gaze.

But he had gone through much in the last fortnight the brute forces had grown strong by habit of self-assertion.
He looked up, and the fact that Emily had gone from his sight stung him into pursuit.
She was sitting where she had sat with Wilfrid, on the fallen tree; the book lay at her side, and she was giving herself to memory.

Treading on the grass, he did not attract her attention till he almost stood before her; then she looked at him, and at once rose.