she had hitherto known
nothing. To have a lover, and such a lover, was a delight to her,
a delight to which there was now hardly any drawback, as there was
nothing now of which she need be afraid. To have him with her as
other girls may have their lovers, she knew was impossible to her.
But to read his words, and to write loving words to him, to talk to
him of his future life, and bid him think of her, his poor Marion,
without allowing his great manly heart to be filled too full with
vain memories, was in truth happiness to her. "Why should you want to
come?" she said. "It is infinitely better that you should not come.
We understand it all now, and acknowledge what it is that the Lord
has done for us. It would not have been good for me to be your wife.
It would not have been good for you to have become my husband. But it
will I think be good for me to have loved you; and if you will learn
to think of it as I do, it will not have been bad for you. It has
given a beauty to my life," she said, "which makes me feel that I
ought to be contented to die early. If I could have had a choice I
would have chosen it so."

But these teachings from her had no effect whatever upon him. It
was her idea that she would pass away, and that there would remain
with him no more than a fair sweet shade which would have but
little effect upon his future life beyond that of creating for him
occasionally a gentle melancholy. It could not be, she thought, that
for a man such as he,--for one so powerful and so great,--such a
memory should cause a lasting sorrow. But with him, to his thinking,
to his feeling, the lasting biting sorrow was there already. There
could be no other love, no other marriage, no other Marion. He had
heard that his stepmother was anxious for her boy. The way should be
open for the child. It did seem to him that a life, long continued,
would be impossible to him when Marion should have been taken away
from him.

"Oh yes;--he's there again," said Miss Demijohn to her aunt. "He
comes mostly on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. What he can be
coming about is more than I can guess. Crocker says it's all true
love. Crocker says that the Duca says--"

"Bother the Duca," exclaimed the old woman. "I don't believe that
Crocker and George Roden ever exchange a word together."

"Why shouldn't they exchange words, and they fast friends of five
years' standing? Crocker says as Lord Hampstead is to be at Lady
Amaldina's wedding i