And now she first became conscious how he had haunted her thoughts in the last few months, not as a soul to be saved, but as a living man--his face, his figure, his voice, his every gesture and expression, rising clear before her, in spite of herself, by day and night.
And then she thought of his last drawing, and the looks which had accompanied it,--unmistakable looks of passionate and adoring love.

There was no denying it--she had always known that he loved her, but she had never dared to confess it to herself.

But now the earthquake was come, and all the secrets of her heart burst upward to the light, and she faced the thought in shame and terror.

'How unjust I have been to him! how cruel! thus to entice him on in hopeless love!' She lifted up her eyes, and saw in the mirror opposite the reflection of her own exquisite beauty.
'I could have known what I was doing! I knew all the while! And yet it is so delicious to feel that any one loves me! Is it selfishness?
It is selfishness, to pamper my vanity on an affection which I do not, will not return.

I will not be thus in debt to him, even for his love.