But even he, now that his eyes were opened, began to perceive the extreme probability of all that his wife suggested. There was no doubt of the fact that Marion and Earle were constantly together, that they seemed to find much gratification in each other's society, and that Mr. Singleton (this was patent to the most careless observation) looked on approvingly at their growing intimacy. "The old fellow wants to see the thing brought about," said Tom Singleton to himself. "He thinks it would tie Brian down, and that a wife with such ideas would soon cure him of his contempt for riches. Well, he's right enough; and since it is most likely to come about, Anna and I may make up our minds that our day is nearly over. We shall soon have to step down to make room for Mrs. Brian Earle."
The young lady designated in advance by this title was herself entirely of his opinion. At this time a rosy vista opened before her. She felt that all which she most desired was within her grasp. And yet not exactly in the manner she had anticipated. For, much as she had always longed for the power which wealth gives, it had not been her dream to obtain wealth by marriage. That seemed to her a means too commonplace, and also too degrading. It was to be won through her own effort, her own cleverness, in some manner as vaguely outlined as a fairy-tale. But she was too shrewd not to perceive, after a very brief acquaintance with life, that for a young girl, without some special and brilliant talent, to hope to make a fortune was as reasonable as if she had thought of building a tower with her own hands. She realized, then, that it was a wonderful prospect which opened before her, as if by the stroke of an enchantress' wand, in the fancy of Mr. Singleton for herself, and in the fact that Earle excited her regard in a degree she had hardly imagined possible. Once, with mocking cynicism, she had asked of Helen, "Do you think such good fortune ever befalls one, as that the man one could love is also the man it is expedient for one to marry?" And now that good fortune, so utterly disbelieved in, had befallen herself!
For the very things in which Earle was least like herself attracted her most. He was an embodiment of ideas which, abstractly, were too exalted for her to reach. His faith, his unworldliness, his devotion to noble ends,—all touched the higher side of her own nature, like strains of heroic poetry. Under his immediate influence, she began to change in a manner as strange as it was significant. Keen eyes noted this, and Mrs. Singleton said to herself that the girl was capable of playing any part, even of pretending to be quixotic and unworldly. But in this she did her injustice. With all its great faults, Marion's character possessed the saving salt of sincerity, and she was absolutely incapable of playing a part for any purpose whatever. The change in her just now was real; there only remained a question whether or not it were deep,—whether human love alone were great enough to work the miracle of regenerating a nature into which worldliness had struck such strong roots.
The test was not long delayed. As the time for Earle's visit drew to a close, he began to realize how decidedly he had suffered himself to be drawn toward this girl, whom his judgment at first so greatly disapproved, and whom it could not even yet altogether approve; although he was not blind to the change in her wrought by his influence,—a change which unconsciously flattered him, as any proof of power flatters this poor human nature of ours. He found, somewhat to his dismay, that he was more attached to her than he had been aware of, but he had no intention of declaring his feeling. Judgment was still too much arrayed against it. And this being so, he resisted the temptation to prolong his visit, and adhered to the original date set for his departure. Now, since this departure was not only to be from Scarborough, but from America, Mr. Singleton was very anxious that it should be prevented, and he watched with growing anxiety the intimacy with Marion, from which he hoped so much.
"My dear," he said to her one day when they were alone together, and she had been singing for him, "I wish you would exert your influence with Brian to keep him from going abroad. It would be much better that he should remain here."
"There can be no doubt of that," she replied. "But you mistake in thinking that I have any influence with him. If I had, I would use it as you desire."
"I am afraid," he observed, "that you underrate your influence. I think you have more than you suppose."
"No," she said. "I have always been accustomed to influencing those around me, and therefore I know very well when I fail to do so. I fail with Mr. Earle. He has no respect for my opinion, as indeed"—with unwonted humility—"why should he have?"
The man of the world uttered a contemptuous laugh. "Do you really, with all your cleverness, know so little of men as to fancy that respect for a woman's opinion is a necessary part of her influence?" he asked.
"With most men I suppose it is not," she answered; "but with Mr. Earle it is. I am sure of that, and also sure that I should not care to influence a man who had no respect for my opinion."