n me, everything I had said would start in her, when Gentleman kissed her. It made me giddy. It made me blush, worse than before. It was like liquor. It made me drunk. I drew away. When her breath came now upon my mouth, it came very cold. My mouth was wet, from hers. I said, in a whisper,
''Do you feel it?''
The words sounded queer; as if the kiss had done something to my tongue. She did not answer. She did not move. She breathed, but lay so still I thought suddenly, ''What if I''ve put her in a trance? Say she never comes out? What ever will I tell her uncle—?''
Then she shifted a little. And then she spoke.
''I feel it,'' she said. Her voice was as strange as mine. ''You have made me feel it. It''s such a curious, wanting thing. I never—''
''It wants Mr Rivers,'' I said.
''Does it?''
''I think it must.''
''I don''t know. I don''t know.''
She spoke, unhappily. But she shifted again, and the shift brought her nearer to me. Her mouth came closer to mine. It was like she hardly knew what she was doing; or knew, but could not help it. She said again, ''I''m afraid.''
''Don''t be frightened,'' I said at once. For I knew that she mustn''t be that. Say she got so frightened she cried off marrying him?
That''s what I thought. I thought I must show her how to do it, or her fear would spoil our plot. So, I kissed her again. Then I touched her. I touched her face. I began at the meeting of our mouths—at the soft wet corners of our lips—then found her jaw, her cheek, her brow— I had touched her before, to wash and dress her; but never like this. So smooth she was! So warm! It was like I was calling the heat and shape of her out of the darkness—as if the darkness was turning solid and growing quick, under my hand.