her, it may be said that
she thought not at all. She had in her short life seen one man who
had pleased her ear and her eye, and had touched her heart; and that
one man had instantly declared himself to be all her own. That made
her bosom glow with some feeling of triumph!

That same evening she abruptly told the whole story to her father.
"Father," she said, "Lord Hampstead was here to-day."

"Here, in this house?"

"Not in this house. But I met him at our friend's, whom I went to
see, as is my custom almost daily."

"I am glad he came not here," said the Quaker.

"Why should you be glad?" To this the Quaker made no answer.

"His purpose was to have come here. It was to see me that he came."

"To see thee?"

"Father, the young lord has asked me to be his wife."

"Asked thee to be his wife!"

"Yes, indeed. Have you not often heard that young men may be
infatuated? It has chanced that I have been the Cinderella for his
eyes."

"But thou art no princess, child."

"And, therefore, am unfit to mate with this prince. I could not
answer him at once, father. It was too sudden for me to find the
words. And the place was hardly fitting. But I have found them now."

"What words, my child?"

"I will tell him with all respect and deference,--nay, I will tell
him with some love, for I do love him,--that it will become him to
look for his wife elsewhere."

"Marion," said the Quaker, who was somewhat moved by those things
which had altogether failed with the girl herself; "Marion, must it
be so?"

"Father, it must certainly be so."

"And yet thou lovest him?"

"Though I were dying for his love it must be so."

"Why, my child, why? As far as I saw the young man he is good and
gracious, of great promise, and like to be true-hearted."

"Good, and gracious, and true-hearted! Oh, yes! And would you have
it that I should bring such a one as that to sorrow,--perhaps to
disgrace?"

"Why to sorrow? Why to disgrace? Wouldst thou be more likely to
disgrace a husband than one of those painted Jezebels who know no
worship but that of their faded beauty? Thou hast not answered him,
Marion?"

"No, father. He is to come on Friday for my answer."

"Think of it yet again, my child. Three days are no time for
considering a matter of such moment. Bid him leave you for ten days
further."

"I am ready now," said Marion.

"And yet thou lovest him! That is not true to nature, Marion. I would
not bid thee take a man's hand