th
all my heart."

CHAPTER IV.

"IT SHALL BE DONE."

Lord Hampstead has been left standing for a long time in Marion
Fay's sitting-room after the perpetration of his great offence, and
Mrs. Roden has been standing there also, having come to the house
almost immediately after her return home from her Italian journey.
Hampstead, of course, knew most of the details of the Di Crinola
romance, but Marion had as yet heard nothing of it. There had been
so much for him to say to her during the interview which had been so
wretchedly interrupted by his violence that he had found no time to
mention to her the name either of Roden or of Di Crinola.

"You have done that which makes me ashamed of myself." These had been
Marion's last words as Mrs. Roden entered the room. "I didn't know
Lord Hampstead was here," said Mrs. Roden.

"Oh, Mrs. Roden, I'm so glad you are come," exclaimed Marion. This
of course was taken by the lady as a kindly expression of joy that
she should have returned from her journey; whereas to Hampstead
it conveyed an idea that Marion was congratulating herself that
protection had come to her from further violence on his part. Poor
Marion herself hardly knew her own meaning,--hardly had any. She
could not even tell herself that she was angry with her lover. It was
probable that the very ecstacy of his love added fuel to hers. If
a lover so placed as were this lover,--a lover who had come to her
asking her to be his wife, and who had been received with the warmest
assurance of her own affection for him,--if he were not justified in
taking her in his arms and kissing her, when might a lover do so?
The ways of the world were known to her well enough to make her feel
that it was so, even in that moment of her perturbation. Angry with
him! How could she be angry with him? He had asked her, and she had
declared to him that she was not angry. Nevertheless she had been
quite in earnest when she had said that now,--after the thing that he
had done,--he must "never, never come to her again."

She was not angry with him, but with herself she was angry. At
the moment, when she was in his arms, she bethought herself how
impossible had been the conditions she had imposed upon him. That he
should be assured of her love, and yet not allowed to approach her
as a lover! That he should be allowed to come there in order that
she might be delighted in looking at him, in hearing his voice, in
knowing and feeling that s