He was extremely sensitive.
Nothing short of a joyous response to his own love would ever have satisfied him.

He could not think of pleading with her.
"Some time--when I am more worthy ?" he had asked in a low voice, but she did not seem to hear, and they had parted at her home, and he recalled vividly the fact that no good-night had been said.
Now as he went over the brief but significant scene he lashed himself for his foolish precipitancy.

He had not reckoned on Rachel's tense, passionate absorption of all her feeling in the scenes at the tent which were so new in her mind.

But he did not know her well enough even yet to understand the meaning of her refusal.

When the clock in the First Church struck one he was still sitting at his desk staring at the last page of manuscript of his unfinished novel.
Rachel went up to her room and faced her evening's experience with conflicting emotions.