He could not give her up. Not even though her brother were convicted of being a criminal and sent to prison.
It was a glorious summer day. The sun was rising in a cloudless blue sky. A gentle wind brought the scent of gorse. Here and there streaks of purple showed in red heather where it had burst into bloom. Now and then a trout leapt with a noisy splash in the pool at his feet.
A long time James Crichton sat on the granite boulder lost in thought, trying to look at the thing from every point of view, arguing and reasoning with himself. No matter what happened, he could not give up Marjorie. If he had only considered his own feelings, it might have been possible, even though it meant a broken heart. But she loved him. He belonged to her; she looked to him for her future life and happiness. She had done no wrong. Why should she, he asked himself, suffer for her brother's sin?
He could save her, even though it meant humbling himself, even though it meant giving up the profession he loved.
He knew the decision to which he had come would hurt his father terribly; but if it came to a choice between him and Marjorie, he knew he should choose the woman who was destined to be his mate; the girl, the whole of whose life lay before her, rather than the man, his own father whose life had been lived.
It was a terrible choice, perhaps a strange one. But Jim instinctively felt he was right.
So deep was his reverie that he did not hear a light step on the grassy ground. A hand was laid on his shoulder and he started, looked up, and found Marjorie smiling into his face.
"My dear!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "My dearest!"
He took her in his arms with a passion she had never felt before and held her so fiercely that she would have cried out with the pain had she not loved him as she did.
"Jim.... You frightened me—and I thought to frighten you," she panted when he released her. "You don't know how strong you are." She glanced at him, her cheeks scarlet, the love and dawn of passion swimming in her eyes. She wore no hat and her hair shone in the golden sunshine. Her neck and arms were bare, and her short, workman-like skirt showed her tiny, well-bred ankles and long, narrow feet. Jim looked at her silently, hungrily.