"Is the time ripe for me to speak in sober earnest?" he questioned softly. She drew back again in swift alarm.
"No, no! Not now—not yet. Do not say anything now, Mr. Schmidt, that may put an end to our—to our adventure."
She was so serious, so plaintive, and yet so shyly prophetic of comfort yet to be attained, that his heart warmed with a mighty glow of exaltation. A sweet feeling of tenderness swept over him.
"If God is good, there can be but one end to our adventure," he said, and then, for some mysterious reason, silence fell between them. Long afterward—it seemed hours to him!—she spoke, and her voice was low and troubled.
"Can you guess why I am being watched so carefully, why I am being followed so doggedly by men who serve not me but another?"
"Yes. It is because you are the greatest jewel in the possession of a great man, and he would preserve you against all varlets,—such as I."
She did not reveal surprise at his shrewd conjecture. She nodded her head and sighed.
"You are right. I am his greatest jewel, and yet he would give me into the keeping of an utter stranger. I am being protected against that conscienceless varlet—Love! If love lays hands upon me—ah, my friend, you cannot possibly guess what a calamity that would be!"
"And love will lay hands upon you, Bedelia,—"
"I am sure of that," she said, once more serene mistress of herself after a peculiarly dangerous lapse. "That is why I shudder. What could be more dreadful than to fall into the clutches of that merciless foe to peace? He rends one's heart into shreds; he stabs in the dark; he thrusts, cuts and slashes and the wounds never heal; he blinds without pity; he is overbearing, domineering, ruthless and his victims are powerless to retaliate. Love is the greatest tyrant in all the world, Mr. Schmidt, and we poor wretches can never hope to conquer him. We are his prey, and he is rapacious. Do you not shudder also?"