Now, as has been said, he felt that he need not have been in such a hurry.
“I should love to go—you will be there.”
Yes, those were the words that had sprung from her heart. The sequence of the phrases had not been the result of art or thought.
He had clearly under-estimated the effect of his own personality upon an impressionable girl who had a great historian for a father. The days that he had passed by her side—carrying out the compact which he had made with Helen Craven—had produced an impression upon her far more powerful than he had believed it possible to produce within so short a space of time.
In short, she was his.
That is what he felt within an hour of parting from her; and all his resources of modesty and humility were unequal to the task of changing his views on this point.
Was he in love with her?
He believed her to be the most beautiful woman whom he had ever seen.