Once out in the grounds, Gervase gave vent to a boisterous fit of
wild laughter, so loud and fierce that little Dr. Dean came to an
abrupt standstill, and stared at him in something of alarm as well
as amazement.

"Are you going mad, Gervase?" he asked.

"Yes!" cried Gervase, "that is just it,--I am going mad,--mad for
love, or whatever you please to call it! What do you think I am
made of? Flesh and blood, or cast-iron? Heavens! Do you think if
all the elements were to combine in a war against me, they should
cheat me out of this woman or rob me of her? No, no! A thousand
times no! Satisfy yourself, my excellent Doctor, with your musty
records of the past,--prate as you choose of the future,--but in
the immediate, burning, active present my will is law! And the
fool Denzil thinks to thwart me,--I, who have never been thwarted
since I knew the meaning of existence!"

He paused in a kind of breathless agitation, and Dr. Dean grasped
his arm firmly.

"Come, come, what is all this excitement for?" he said. "What are
you saying about Denzil?"

Gervase controlled himself with a violent effort and forced a
smile.

"He has got his chance,--I have given it to him! He is alone with
the Princess, and he is asking her to be his wife!"