Mrs. Adair was right. Flora had run away—she had gone up to Marie. As she entered the room the light of the moon showed her Marie sitting in the window, looking sadly dejected, and going over to her she put her arms round her, saying, "Poor darling Mignonne!"
Large tears rolled slowly down Marie's cheeks as she said in French, "Don't think me ill-natured, Flore—don't imagine that I would not do anything that I could to promote your happiness, but I felt so lonely; I felt that I was a stranger amongst you. Now that you are with me, however, and as fond as ever, it is all well, and I am so glad if you are happy, Flore. But Monsieur Earnscliffe is not un croyant, so I suppose you cannot marry him until he becomes one?"
Flora felt almost angry with Marie. Was there never to be an end of this question of religion? She subdued the feeling, however, and answered gently, "Mignonne, if Mr. Barkley were not a croyant, as you say, and if he came to you and told you how for years and years he had known only suffering, but that now he loved you and that you could make him forget it all if you would marry him at once, would you—could you say to him, 'No, suffer on until you become one of the body of the faithful?' Could you condemn him you love to endure pain which you could relieve? Could you refuse, even for a time, to fulfil the office for which woman was created—that of consoling and rendering happy one whom she loves?"
"I know it would be fearfully difficult," replied Marie, looking very much puzzled; "but if you were told it was right to do so, what then?"
"If the Church forbade me to marry him I would of course submit. But what misery it would be to make him endure one hour's suffering from which I might save him. Thank God, I know that there is no indispensable obstacle to my marrying him—it would be too dreadful."
"Take care, Flore, there may be some indispensable obstacle although you know it not."
"Mignonne, wish me joy at having won the love of such a man, rather than suggest obstacles to our happiness; it is a bad omen to hear of nothing but objections on the night of one's betrothal. God knows that 'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,'" and again Flora shuddered.
"I do wish you joy, Flora, now and for ever, and I will daily pray that Monsieur Earnscliffe may soon be as firm a believer as you are yourself."
"Thanks, dear Mignonne, it is so unselfish of you to think about me now in the midst of your own trial."
"I was not unselfish a few minutes ago, Flore, when I saw you and Monsieur Earnscliffe together, and his kiss of betrothal imprinted on your brow made me cry; yet indeed it was not that I envied you, Flore, but it made me feel how different everything was for me."