“Merely that the expanse of stars above us is not more illimitable than my contempt for Miss Lindsay, nor brighter than my hopes of Gertrude.”

“Miss Lindsay always to you, if you please, Mr. Trefusis.”

“Miss Lindsay never to me, but only to those who cannot see through her to the soul within, which is Gertrude.  There are a thousand Miss Lindsays in the world, formal and false.  There is but one Gertrude.”

“I am an unprotected girl, Mr. Trefusis, and you can call me what you please.”

It occurred to Erskine that this was a fit occasion to rush forward and give Trefusis, whose figure he could now dimly discern, a black eye.  But he hesitated, and the opportunity passed.

“Unprotected!” said Trefusis.  “Why, you are fenced round and barred in with conventions, laws, and lies that would frighten the truth from the lips of any man whose faith in Gertrude was less strong than mine.  Go to Sir Charles and tell him what I have said to Miss Lindsay, and within ten minutes I shall have passed these gates with a warning never to approach them again.  I am in your power, and were I in Miss Lindsay’s power alone, my shrift would be short.  Happily, Gertrude, though she sees as yet but darkly, feels that Miss Lindsay is her bitterest foe.”

“It is ridiculous.  I am not two persons; I am only one.  What does it matter to me if your contempt for me is as illimitable as the stars?”

“Ah, you remember that, do you?  Whenever you hear a man talking about the stars you may conclude that he is either an astronomer or a fool.  But you and a fine starry night would make a fool of any man.”

“I don’t understand you.  I try to, but I cannot; or, if I guess, I cannot tell whether you are in earnest or not.”

“I am very much in earnest.  Abandon at once and for ever all misgivings that I am trifling with you, or passing an idle hour as men do when they find themselves in the company of beautiful women.  I mean what I say literally, and in the deepest sense.  You doubt me; we have brought society to such a state that we all suspect one another.  But whatever is true will command belief sooner or later from those who have wit enough to comprehend truth.  Now let me recall Miss Lindsay to consciousness by remarking that we have been out for ten minutes, and that our hostess is not the woman to allow our absence to pass without comment.”

“Let us go in.  Thank you for reminding me.”

“Thank you for forgetting.”

Erskine heard their footsteps retreating, and presently saw the two enter the glow of light that shone from the open window of the billiard room, through which they went indoors.  Trefusis, a man whom he had seen that day in a beautiful landscape, blind to everything except a row of figures in a Blue Book, was his successful rival, although it was plain from the very sound of his voice that he did not—­could not—­love Gertrude.  Only a poet could do that.  Trefusis