did not think that
it would be like that when I told you that you might love me."

All that Tuesday morning, before he left home, he was not only
thinking of her, but trying to marshal in order what arguments
he might use,--so as to convince her at last. He did not at all
understand how utterly fruitless his arguments had been with her.
When Mrs. Roden had told him of Marion's strength he had only in part
believed her. In all matters concerning the moment Marion was weak
and womanly before him. When he told her that this or the other thing
was proper and becoming, she took it as Gospel because it came from
him. There was something of the old awe even when she looked up into
his face. Because he was a great nobleman, and because she was the
Quaker's daughter, there was still, in spite of their perfect love,
something of superiority, something of inferiority of position. It
was natural that he should command,--natural that she should obey.
How could it be then that she should not at last obey him in this
great thing which was so necessary to him? And yet hitherto he had
never gone near to prevailing with her. Of course he marshalled all
his arguments.

Gentle and timid as she was, she had made up her mind to everything,
even down to the very greeting with which she would receive him. His
first warm kiss had shocked her. She had thought of it since, and
had told herself that no harm could come to her from such tokens of
affection,--that it would be unnatural were she to refuse it to him.
Let it pass by as an incident that should mean nothing. To hang upon
his neck and to feel and to know that she was his very own,--that
might not be given to her. To hear his words of love and to answer
him with words as warm,--that could be allowed to her. As for the
rest, it would be better that she should let it so pass by that there
need be as little of contention as possible on a matter so trivial.

When he came into the room he took her at once, passive and
unresisting, into his arms. "Marion," he said. "Marion! Do you say
that you are ill? You are as bright as a rose."

"Rose leaves soon fall. But we will not talk about that. Why go to
such a subject?"

"It cannot be helped." He still held her by the waist, and now again
he kissed her. There was something in her passive submission which
made him think at the moment that she had at last determined to yield
to him altogether. "Marion, Marion," he said, still holding her in
his e