the
remainder of their joint existence. She must be made to sit there if
he could so plead his cause that his love should prevail with her.
As to the Quaker father, he thought altogether well of him too,--an
industrious, useful, intelligent man, of whose quaint manners and
manly bearing he would not be ashamed in any society. She, too, was
a Quaker, but that to him was little or nothing. He also had his
religious convictions, but they were not of a nature to be affronted
or shocked by those of any one who believed that the increasing
civilization of the world had come from Christ's teaching. The
simple, earnest purity of the girl's faith would be an attraction to
him rather than otherwise. Indeed, there was nothing in his Marion,
as he saw her, that was not conducive to feminine excellence.

His Marion! How many words had he spoken to her? How many thoughts
had he extracted from her? How many of her daily doings had he ever
witnessed? But what did it matter? It is not the girl that the man
loves, but the image which imagination has built up for him to fill
the outside covering which has pleased his senses. He was quite as
sure that the Ten Commandments were as safe in Marion's hands as
though she were already a saint, canonized for the perfection of all
virtues. He was quite ready to take that for granted; and having so
convinced himself, was now only anxious as to the means by which he
might make this priceless pearl his own.

There must be some other scheme. He sat, thinking of this, cudgelling
his brains for some contrivance by which he and Marion Fay might be
brought together again with the least possible delay. His idea of a
dinner-party had succeeded beyond all hope. But he could not have
another dinner-party next week. Nor could he bring together the
guests whom he had to-day entertained after his sister's return.
He was bound not to admit George Roden to his house as long as she
should be with him. Without George he could hardly hope that Mrs.
Roden would come to him, and without Mrs. Roden how could he entice
the Quaker and his daughter? His sister would be with him on the
following day, and would, no doubt, be willing to assist him with
Marion if it were possible. But the giving of such assistance on
her part would tacitly demand assistance also from him in her
difficulties. Such assistance, he knew, he could not give, having
pledged himself to his father in regard to George Roden. He could at
the present