There seemed nothing that he would not do for her; it did not, however,
occur to him that perhaps the one thing he could do for her was to leave
her. But short of this self-sacrifice--and to that even he might have
risen had anyone pointed him the way--he was in just that state of
exalted feeling which made him at his best, cured him of his tricks for
the time being, and gave him the simplicity whose absence marred his
ordinary hours. He always rose to the occasion, Dick Benyon maintained;
and to this great occasion he came marvellously near to rising. This is
not to say that he was altogether in the temper of a hero of romance. He
loved the lady, but he loved the victory too, the report of it, the
_eclat_, the talk it would make.
The tendency of events might seem to justify his growing hopes and almost
to excuse confidence, but May's mood, had he seen it fully, would have
rebuked him. She hung doubtful. She had succeeded, by the help of her
far-fetched metaphors, in describing to Morewood the nature of the
attraction which Quisante exercised over her and of the force which drew
her on; but to Morewood she had said nothing of the opposing influences.
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