He had been dreading the question and was relieved beyond measure when it was not asked . But , apart from that , he was hardly conscious of her presence . He ate and drank mechanically and voicelessly . When he had gone out , Catherine wagged her uncomely grey head ominously . `` He 's bewitched , '' she muttered . `` I know the signs . He 's seen her -- drat her ! It 's time she gave up that kind of work . Well , I dunno what to do -- thar ai n't anything I can do , I reckon . He 'll never marry now -- I 'm as sure of that as of any mortal thing . He 's in love with a ghost . '' It had not yet occurred to Roger that he was in love . He thought of nothing but Isabel Temple -- her lovely , lovely face , sweeter than any picture he had ever seen or any ideal he had dreamed , her long dark hair , her slim form and , more than all , her compelling eyes . He saw them wherever he looked -- they drew him -- he would have followed them to the end of the world , heedless of all else . He longed for night , that he might again steal to the grave in the haunted grove . She might come again -- who knew ? He felt no fear , nothing but a terrible hunger to see her again . But she did not come that night -- nor the next -- nor the next . Two weeks went by and he had not seen her . Perhaps he would never see her again -- the thought filled him with anguish not to be borne .
He knew now XXXXX he loved her -- Isabel Temple , dead for eighty years .
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