He was looking at her with profound attention, but the tenseness of his eyes had relaxed. Here was this girl. Foolish she might be naturally, badly brought up she certainly was, but she was utterly alone in the world. He must train her. He must oblige her to walk in the path he had laid out for her. She, too, must become a servant of the College. He willed it!
"I hope, Gwendolen," he said gently, "that I shall never be anything but kind to you. But do you realise that if you are my wife, you will have to live, not for pleasure or ease; and you will have not merely to control yourself, but learn to control other people? This may sound hard. Does it sound hard?"
Oh, she would try her very best. She would do whatever he told her to do. Just whatever he told her!
Whatever he told her to do! What an unending task he had undertaken of telling her what to do! He must never relax his will or his attention from her. It would be no marriage for him; it would be a heavy responsibility. But at least the College should not suffer! Was he sure of that? He must see that it did not suffer. If he failed, he must resign. His promise to her was not to love her. He had never spoken of love. He had offered her a home, and he must give her a home.
He braced himself up with a supreme effort and went towards her, taking her into his arms and kissing her brow and cheeks, and then, releasing himself from her clinging arms, he said—
"Go now, Gwendolen. Go to bed. I have work to do."
"Are you—is it——" she stammered.
"We are engaged, if that is what you mean," he said.
"Oh, Dr. Middleton!" she exclaimed. "And may I write to my mother?"
The Warden did not answer for a moment.