annot listen to you--read that!' And she
handed him the vicar's letter. He read it, tossed it on the carpet,
and crushed it with his heel.

'Wretched pedant! Can your intellect be deluded by such barefaced
sophistries? "God's will," forsooth! And if your mother's
opposition is not a sign that God's will--if it mean anything except
your own will, or that--that man's--is against this mad project, and
not for it, what sign would you have? So "celibacy is the highest
state!" And why? Because "it is the safest and the easiest road to
heaven?" A pretty reason, vicar! I should have thought that that
was a sign of a lower state and not a higher. Noble spirits show
their nobleness by daring the most difficult paths. And even if
marriage was but one weed-field of temptations, as these miserable
pedants say, who have either never tried it, or misused it to their
own shame, it would be a greater deed to conquer its temptations
than to flee from them in cowardly longings after ease and safety!'

She did not answer him, but kept her face buried in her hands.

'Again, I say, Argemone, will you fight against Fate--Providence--
God--call it what you will? Who made us meet at the chapel? Who
made me, by my accident, a guest in your father's house! Who put it
into your heart to care for my poor soul? Who gave us this strange
attraction towards each other, in spite of our unlikeness?
Wonderful that the very chain of circumstances which you seem to
fancy the offspring of chance or the devil, should have first taught
me to believe that there is a God who guides us! Argemone! speak,
tell me, if you will, to go for ever; but tell me first the truth--
You love me!'

A strong shudder ran through her frame--the ice of artificial years
cracked, and the clear stream of her woman's nature welled up to the
light, as pure as when she first lay on her mother's bosom: she
lifted up her eyes, and with one long look of passionate tenderness
she faltered out,--

'I love you!'

He did not stir, but watched her with clasped hands, like one who in
dreams finds himself in some fairy palace, and fears that a movement
may break the spell.

'Now, go,' she said; 'go, and let me collect my thoughts. All this
has been too much for me. Do not look sad--you may come again to-
morrow.'

She smiled and held out her hand. He caught it, covered it with
kisses, and pressed it to his heart. She half drew it back