yet he could not
keep himself from admiring it. He thought he recognised a fine, perverse
angel in that still soul which he had never hitherto suspected; and
though he saw it was an influence that would fit but ill with his own
life of artificial calm, he could not keep himself from ardently desiring
to possess it. Like a man who has lived among shadows and now meets the
sun, he was both pained and delighted.

As the days went forward he passed from one extreme to another; now
pluming himself on the strength of his determination, now despising his
timid and silly caution. The former was, perhaps, the true thought of his
heart, and represented the regular tenor of the man's reflections; but
the latter burst forth from time to time with an unruly violence, and
then he would forget all consideration, and go up and down his house and
garden or walk among the fir-woods like one who is beside himself with
remorse. To equable, steady-minded Will, this state of matters was
intolerable; and he determined, at whatever cost, to bring it to an end.
So, one warm summer afternoon, he put on his best clothes, took a thorn
switch in his hand, and set out down the valley by the river. As soon as
he had taken his determination, he had regained at a bound his customary
peace of heart, and he enjoyed the bright weather and the variety of the
scene without any admixture of alarm or unpleasant eagerness. It was
nearly the same to him how the matter turned out. If she accepted him he
would have to marry her this time, which perhaps was all for the best. If
she refused him, he would have done his utmost, and might follow his own
way in the future with an untroubled conscience. He hoped, on the whole,
she would refuse him; and then, again, as he saw the brown roof which
sheltered her, peeping through some willows at an angle of the stream, he
was half inclined to reverse the wish, and more than half-ashamed of
himself for this infirmity of purpose.

Marjory seemed glad to see him, and gave him her hand without affectation
or delay.

"I have been thinking about this marriage," he began.

"So have I," she answered. "And I respect you more and more for a very
wise man. You understood me better than I understood myself; and I am now
quite certain that things are all for the best as they are."

"At the same time----" ventured Will.

"You must be tired," she interrupted. "Take a seat and let me fetch you a
glass of wine. The afternoon is so wa