ced than a star. Wollaston made an
almost imperceptible pause in his discourse, then he continued,
fixing his eyes upon the oriel-window opposite. He realized himself
as surprised and stirred, but he was not a young man whom a girl's
beauty can rouse at once to love. He had, moreover, a strong sense of
honor and duty. He realized Maria was his legal wife. He was,
although he had gotten over his boyish romance, which had been
shocked out of him at the time of his absurd marriage, in an attitude
of soul which was ready for love, and love for his wife. He had often
said to himself that no other honorable course was possible for
either Maria or himself: that it was decidedly best that they should
fall in love with each other and make their marriage a reality. At
the same time, something more than delicacy and shyness restrained
him from making advances. He was convinced that Maria not only
disliked but feared him. A great pity for her was in his heart, and
also pride, which shrank from exposing itself to rebuffs. Yet he did
not underestimate himself. He considered that he had as good a chance
as any man of winning her affection and overcoming her present
attitude towards him. He saw no reason why he should not. While he
was not conceited, he knew perfectly well his advantages as to
personal appearance. He also was conscious of the integrity of his
purpose as far as she was concerned. He knew that, whenever she
should be willing to accept him, he should make her a good husband,
and he recognized his readiness and ability to love her should she
seem ready to welcome his love. He, however, was very proud even
while conscious of his advantages, and consequently easily wounded.
He could not forget Maria's look of horror when she had recognized
him the Saturday before. A certain resentment towards her because of
it was over him in spite of himself. He said to himself that he had
not deserved that look, that he had done all that mortal man could do
to shield her from a childish tragedy, for which he had not been to
blame in any greater degree than she. He said to himself that she
might at least have had confidence in his honor and his generosity.
However, pity for her and that readiness to do his duty--to love
her--were uppermost. The quick glance which he had given Maria that
morning had filled him with pleasure. Maria, in her dull-rose blouse,
with her cluster of chrysanthemums, with her fair, emotional face
held by sheer force