That he loved her, with all the force of his self-contained nature, was beyond any doubt.

Love, as a rule, recks little of the suitability of the object, when it attacks a heart; but in some few cases--that is the peculiar charm--Francis Markrute had waited until he was forty-six years old, firmly keeping to his ideal, until he found her, in a measure of perfection, of which even he had not dared to dream.

His theory, which he had proved in his whole life, was that nothing is beyond the grasp of a man who is master of himself and his emotions.

But even his iron nerves felt the tension of excitement, as luncheon drew to an end, and he knew in half an hour, when most of the company were safely disposed of, he should again find his way to his lady's shrine.
Ethelrida did not look at him.

She was her usual, charmingly-gracious self to her neighbors, solicitous of Tristram's headache.