s pledge. True to it, though all the Greshams
but one should oppose her with all their power; true to it, even
though her own uncle should oppose her.

And how could she have done any other than so pledge herself, invoked
to it as she had been? How could she do less for him than he was so
anxious to do for her? They would talk to her of maiden delicacy, and
tell her that she had put a stain on that snow-white coat of proof,
in confessing her love for one whose friends were unwilling to
receive her. Let them so talk. Honour, honesty, and truth, out-spoken
truth, self-denying truth, and fealty from man to man, are worth more
than maiden delicacy; more, at any rate, than the talk of it. It
was not for herself that this pledge had been made. She knew her
position, and the difficulties of it; she knew also the value of it.
He had much to offer, much to give; she had nothing but herself. He
had name, and old repute, family, honour, and what eventually would
at least be wealth to her. She was nameless, fameless, portionless.
He had come there with all his ardour, with the impulse of his
character, and asked for her love. It was already his own. He had
then demanded her troth, and she acknowledged that he had a right to
demand it. She would be his if ever it should be in his power to take
her.

But there let the bargain end. She would always remember, that though
it was in her power to keep her pledge, it might too probably not be
in his power to keep his. That doctrine, laid down so imperatively
by the great authorities of Greshamsbury, that edict, which demanded
that Frank should marry money, had come home also to her with a
certain force. It would be sad that the fame of Greshamsbury should
perish, and that the glory should depart from the old house. It might
be, that Frank also should perceive that he must marry money. It
would be a pity that he had not seen it sooner; but she, at any rate,
would not complain.

And so she stood, leaning on the open window, with her book unnoticed
lying beside her. The sun had been in the mid-sky when Frank had left
her, but its rays were beginning to stream into the room from the
west before she moved from her position. Her first thought in the
morning had been this: Would he come to see her? Her last now was
more soothing to her, less full of absolute fear: Would it be right
that he should come again?

The first sounds she heard were the footsteps of her uncle, as he
came up to the d