eld."

"Who can know as she knows?" said Mrs. Roden. "Which among us is so
likely to be guided by what is right? Which is so pure, and honest,
and loving? Her conscience tells her what is best."

"I am not sure of that," said he. "Her conscience may fill her as
well as another with fears that are unnecessary. I cannot think that
a girl should be encouraged by those around her to doom herself after
this fashion. Who has a right to say that God has determined that she
shall die early?" Mrs. Roden shook her head. "I am not going to teach
others what religion demands, but to me it seems that we should leave
these things in God's hands. That she may doubt as to herself may be
natural enough, but others should not have encouraged her."

"You mean me, my lord?"

"You must not be angry with me, Mrs. Roden. The matter to me is so
vital that I have to say what I think about it. It does seem to me
that I am kept away from her, whereas, by all the ties which can
bind a man and a woman together, I ought to be with her. Forms and
ceremonies seem to sink to nothing, when I think of all she is to me,
and remember that I am told that she is soon to be taken away from
me."

"How would it be if she had a mother?"

"Why should her mother refuse my love for her daughter? But she has
no mother. She has a father who has accepted me. I do believe that
had the matter been left wholly to him, Marion would now be my wife."

"I was away, my lord, in Italy."

"I will not be so harsh to such a friend as you, as to say that I
wish you had remained there; but I feel,--I cannot but feel--"

"My lord, I think the truth is that you hardly know how strong in
such a matter as this our Marion herself can be. Neither have I nor
has her father prevailed upon her. I can go back now, and tell you
without breach of confidence all that passed between her and me. When
first your name was discussed between us; when first I saw that you
seemed to make much of her--"

"Make much of her!" exclaimed Hampstead, angrily.

"Yes; make much of her! When first I thought that you were becoming
fond of her."

"You speak as though there had been some idle dallying. Did I not
worship her? Did I not pour out my whole heart into her lap from the
first moment in which I saw her? Did I hide it even from you? Was
there any pretence, any falsehood?"

"No, indeed."

"Do not say that I made much of her. The phrase is vile. When she
told me that she loved me, she made