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"Never mind," returned Walter. "It was you, not the book I wanted." A broad bench went round the circular wall; Lufa seated herself on it, and Walter placed himself beside her, as near as he dared. For some moments he did not speak. She looked up at him inquiringly. He sunk at her feet, bowed his head toward her, and but for lack of courage would have laid it on her knees.
"What are you driving at?" said Lufa. "I was thinking of a much more fearful kind of creature," he answered. "What kind of a creature?" she asked. "A creature," he said, slowly, "that has a body, but no soul to it. All body, with brain enough for its affairs, it has no soul. Such will never wander about after they are dead! there will be nothing to wander! Good-night, ladies!
I do so want to show you our library! And I have so many things to ask you!" "I am your slave, the jin of your lamp." "I would I had such a lamp as would call you!" "It will need no lamp to make me come." Lamps to call moths are plenty, and Lufa was herself one. London was very hot, very dusty, and as dreary as Walter had anticipated.
He started to his feet, and with the courage of terror extreme, opened the door not opened it a little, as if he feared an unwelcome human presence, but pulled it, with a sudden wide yawn, open as the grave! There stood no bodiless soul, but soulless Lufa! He stood aside, and invited her to enter.
When the play was over, and the crowd was dispersing, he found himself close to them on the pavement as they waited for their carriage. So near to Lufa was he that he could not help touching her dress. But what a change had passed on him! Not once did he wish her to look round and brighten when she saw him!
Thank you a thousand times!" By this Walter was in love with Lady Lufa. He said as much to himself, at least; and in truth he was almost possessed with her. Every thought that rose in his mind began at once to drift toward her. Every hour of the day had a rose-tinge from the dress in which he first saw her.
He felt strangely defeated, rose, and sat down beside her again, with the sickness of a hot summer noon in his soul. But he must leave no room for mistake! He had been dreaming long enough! What had not Sefton told him! "Is it possible you do not understand, Lufa, what a man means when he says, 'I love you'?" "I think I do! I don't mind it!" "That means you will love me again?"
Little as he desired to see her, it was a relief that it was she, and not an elderly lady in brown silk, through whose person you might thrust your hand without injury or offense. As a reward of his promptitude in opening the door, he caught sight of Lady Tremaine disappearing in the corridor. Lady Lufa walked in without a word, and Walter followed her, leaving the door wide.
There are lines in Milton which Walter, who knew far more than she, could not read until long after, when Dante taught him how. In the month of December came another note from Lady Lufa, inviting him to spend a week with them after Christmas. "Perhaps then we may have yet a ride together," added a postscript. "What does she mean?" thought Walter, a pale fear at his heart.
She ceased; he was silent for a moment, then fervent in thanks and admiration. "The verses are mine no more," he said. "I shall care for them now!" "You won't mind if I publish them with the music?" "I shall feel more honored than I dare tell you. But how am I to go to my work after this taste of paradise! It was too cruel of you, Lady Lufa, to make me come in the morning!" "I am very sorry!"
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