You are big and strong, and
you look brave. It will reassure me. I am not myself a coward, but
to-night fear has got me by the throat. I can hardly breathe. Do let me
stay till I am warm. If you only knew what I have gone through, and have
to go through still, I am sure you would pity me and help me." To say that I was astonished would be a mild description of my feelings. I was not shocked. The life which I have led was not one which makes for
prudery. To travel in strange places amongst strange peoples with
strange views of their own is to have odd experiences and peculiar
adventures now and again; a man without human passions is not the type
necessary for an adventurous life, such as I myself have had. But even a
man of passions and experiences can, when he respects a woman, be
shocked--even prudish--where his own opinion of her is concerned. Such
must bring to her guarding any generosity which he has, and any
self-restraint also. Even should she place herself in a doubtful
position, her honour calls to his honour. This is a call which may not
be--_must_ not be--unanswered. Even passion must pause for at least a
while at sound of such a trumpet-call. This woman I did respect--much respect. Her youth and beauty; her
manifest ignorance of evil; her superb disdain of convention, which could
only come through hereditary dignity; her terrible fear and
suffering--for there must be more in her unhappy condition than meets the
eye--would all demand respect, even if one did not hasten to yield it. Nevertheless, I thought it necessary to enter a protest against her
embarrassing suggestion. I certainly did feel a fool when making it,
also a cad. I can truly say it was made only for her good, and out of
the best of me, such as I am. I felt impossibly awkward; and stuttered
and stumbled before I spoke:

"But surely--the convenances! Your being here alone at night! Mrs.
Grundy--convention--the--"

She interrupted me with an incomparable dignity--a dignity which had the
effect of shutting me up like a clasp-knife and making me feel a decided
inferior--and a poor show at that. There was such a gracious simplicity
and honesty in it, too, such self-respecting knowledge of herself and her
position, that I could be neither angry nor hurt. I could only feel
ashamed of myself, and of my own littleness of mind and morals. She
seemed in her icy coldness--now spiritual as well as bodily--like an
incarnate figure of Pride as she answered:

"What are convenances or conventions to me! If you only knew where I
have come from--the existence (if it can be called so) which I have
had--the loneliness--the horror! And besides, it is for me to _make_
conventions, not to yield my personal freedom of action to them. Even as
I am--even here and in this garb--I am above convention. Convenances do
not trouble me or hamper me. That, at least, I have won by what I have
gone through, even if it had never come to me through any other way. Let
me stay." She said the last words, in spite of all her pride,
appealingly. But still, there was a note of high pride in all this--in
all she said and did, in her attitude and movement, in the tones of her
voice, in the loftiness of her carriage and the steadfast look of her
open, starlit eyes. Altogether, there was something so rarely lofty in
herself and all that clad her that, face to face with it and with her, my
feeble attempt at moral precaution seemed puny, ridiculous, and out of
place. Without a word in the doing, I took from an old chiffonier chest
an armful of blankets, several of which I threw over her as she lay, for
in the meantime, having replaced the coverlet, she had lain down at
length on the bed. I took a chair, and sat down beside her. When she
stretched out her hand from beneath the pile of wraps, I took it in mine,
saying:

"Get warm and rest. Sleep if you can. You need not fear; I shall guard
you with my life." She looked at me gratefully, her starry eyes taking a new light more full
of illumination than was afforded by the wax candle, which was shaded
from her by my body . . . She was horribly cold, and her teeth chattered
so violently that I feared lest she should have incurred some dangerous
evil from her wetting and the cold that followed it. I felt, however, so
awkward that I could find no words to express my fears; moreover, I
hardly dared say anything at all regarding herself after the haughty way
in which she had received my well-meant protest. Manifestly I was but to
her as a sort of refuge and provider of heat, altogether impersonal, and
not to be regarded in any degree as an individual. In these humiliating
circumstances what could I do but sit quiet--and wait developments? Little by little the fierce chattering of her teeth began to abate as the
warmth of her surroundings stole through her. I also felt, even in this
strangely awakening position, the influence of the quiet; and sleep began
to steal over me. Several times I tried to fend it off, but, as I could
not make any overt movement without alarming my strange and beautiful
companion, I had to yield myself to drowsiness. I was still in such an
overwhelming stupor of surprise that I could not even think freely. There was nothing for me but to control myself and wait. Before I could
well fix my thoughts I was asleep. I was recalled to consciousness by hearing, even through the pall of
sleep that bound me, the crowing of a cock in some of the out-offices of
the castle. At the same instant the figure, lying deathly still but for
the gentle heaving of her bosom, began to struggle wildly. The sound had
won through the gates of her sleep also. With a swift, gliding motion
she slipped from the bed to the floor, saying in a fierce whisper as she
pulled herself up to her full height:

"Let me out! I must go! I must go!" By this time I was fully awake, and the whole position of things came to
me in an instant which I shall never--can never--forget: the dim light of
the candle, now nearly burned down to the socket, all the dimmer from the
fact that the first grey gleam of morning was stealing in round the edges
of the heavy curtain; the tall, slim figure in the brown dressing-gown
whose over-length trailed on the floor, the black hair showing glossy in
the light, and increasing by contrast the marble whiteness of the face,
in which the black eyes sent through their stars fiery gleams. She
appeared quite in a frenzy of haste; her eagerness was simply
irresistible. I was so stupefied with amazement, as well as with sleep, that I did not
attempt to stop her, but began instinctively to help her by furthering
her wishes. As she ran behind the screen, and, as far as sound could
inform me,--began frantically to disrobe herself of the warm
dressing-gown and to don again the ice-cold wet shroud, I pulled back the
curtain from the window, and drew the bolt of the glass door. As I did
so she was already behind me, shivering.