control him. Then it had been
necessary to tell him all the truth. This she had done at last with
very few words. "My mother died; and all my brothers and sisters have
died. And I also shall die young." Very simple, this had been; but,
ah, powerful as it was simple! In it there had been a hard assertion
of facts too strong even for his masterful nature. He could not say,
even to himself, that it was not so,--that it should not be so. It
might be that she might be spared where others had not been spared.
That risk, of course, he was prepared to run. Without turning it much
in his thoughts, without venturing to think of the results or to
make a calculation, he was prepared to tell her that she too must
leave all that in the hand of God, and run her chance as do all human
mortal beings. He certainly would so argue the matter with her. But
he could not tell her that there was no ground for fear. He could not
say that though her mother had died, and though her little brothers
and sisters had died, there was yet no cause for fear. And he felt
that should she persist in her resolution there would be a potency
about her which it might well be that he should fail to dominate.
If we can live, let us live together; and if we must die, let us
die,--as nearly together as may be. That we should come together is
the one thing absolutely essential; and then let us make our way
through our troubles as best we may under the hands of Fate. This was
what he would now say to her. But he knew that he could not say it
with that bright look and those imperious tones which had heretofore
almost prevailed with her. Not replying to Marion's letter by any
written answer, but resolving that the words which would be necessary
might best be spoken, he came back to Hendon. Oh how softly they
should be spoken! With his arm round her waist he would tell her that
still it should be for better or for worse. "I will say nothing of
what may happen except this;--that whatever may befall us we will
take it and bear it together." With such words whispered into her
ear, would he endeavour to make her understand that though it might
all be true, still would her duty be the same.

But when he reached his house, intending to go on almost at once to
Holloway, he was stopped by a note from the Quaker.

"My dear young friend," said the note from the Quaker,

I am desired by Marion to tell thee that we have thought
it better that she should go for a few we