"Write to me often, and tell me how you feel as the time for your decision approaches. But you must never ask me to give any opinion about it. Do not think it cold and unkind of me, dearest, thus to throw you back upon yourself, and leave you to stand alone in this crisis of your life. Heaven knows how much it costs me to act so; but I cannot do otherwise. Colonel de St. Severan would naturally resent any interference on my part; so in honour I am bound to be silent.
"Good-bye, then, dearest; and may God direct you.
"Ever your affectionate
"Flora Adair."
After the receipt of this letter Marie felt more unhappy than ever. Flora's words, "Trust to God alone, and, under Him, to your own sense of right," simply told her that she must act on her own responsibility; for she could not suppose that God would send down an angel to tell her what she ought to do.
In vain she tried to conquer her repugnance to the idea of marrying. But when they said to her that this was a temptation and a clinging to the memory of one whom she had no longer any right to love, she felt that she had not the courage to say, "I will not marry."
At length she began to look upon her union with the Comte Charles as a sort of fate, from which she could not escape by any act of her own. Yet she prayed day after day that, if it were God's holy will, the marriage might never take place.
Thus time glided on, slowly and sadly for Marie, and yet too quickly also; for it brought nearer and nearer the dreaded day when she was to give her final answer.
One soft, hazy June morning, as she sat in an arbour with Colonel de St. Severan, he said, "Eh bien! mon enfant, we are not far from your birthday, and then I hope you will make us all happy by allowing your fiançailles to be celebrated."
"But I need not give my answer until the very day, mon père," murmured Marie, bending low over the work in her hand.