There was an embarrassment in his manner, the inevitable result
of his fear of himself if he faltered in the resolute exercise of
self-restraint, which was perfectly incomprehensible to Sydney.
He moved his seat back a little, so as to place himself further
away. Something in that action, at that time, shocked and
humiliated her. Completely misunderstanding him, she thought he
was reminding her of the distance that separated them in social
rank. Oh, the shame of it! the shame of it! Would other
governesses have taken a liberty with their master? A fit of
hysterical sobbing burst its way through her last reserves of
self-control; she started to her feet, and ran out of the
summer-house.

Alarmed and distressed, he followed her instantly.

She was leaning against the pedestal of a statue in the garden,
panting, shuddering, a sight to touch the heart of a far less
sensitive man than the man who now approached her. "Sydney!" he
said. "Dear little Sydney!" She tried to speak to him in return.
Breath and strength failed her together; she lifted her hand,
vainly grasping at the broad pedestal behind her; she would have
fallen if he had not caught her in his arms. Her head sank
faintly backward on his breast. He looked at the poor little
tortured face, turned up toward him in the lovely moonlight.
Again and again he had honorably restrained himself--he was
human; he was a man--in one mad moment it was done, hotly,
passionately done--he kissed her.

For the first time in her maiden's life, a man's lips touched her
lips. All that had been perplexing and strange, all that had been