On Sunday morning the lovers "chanced" to meet again—for so Thurston would still have had it appear as he permitted Marian to overtake him in the forest on her way to the Sunday-school.
She was blooming and beautiful as the morning itself as she approached.
He turned with a radiant smile to greet her.
"Welcome! thrice welcome, dearest one! Your coming is more joyous than that of day. Welcome, my own, dear Marian! May I now call you mine? Have I read that angel-smile aright? Is it the blessed herald of a happy answer to my prayer?" he whispered, as he took her hand and passed his arm around her head and brought it down upon his bosom. "Speak, my Marian! Speak, my beloved! Are you my own, as I am yours?"
Her answer was so low-toned that he had to bend his head down close to her lips to hear her murmur:
"I love you dearly. But I love you too well to ruin your prospects. You must not bind yourself to me just yet, dear Thurston," and meekly and gently she sought to slip from his embrace.
But he slid his arm around her lightly, bending his head and whispering eagerly:
"What mean you, Marian? Your words are incomprehensible."
"Dear Thurston," she answered, in a tremulous and thrilling voice, "I have known your grandfather long by report, and I am well aware of his character and disposition and habits. But only yesterday I chanced to learn from one who was well informed that old Mr. Willcoxen had sworn to make you his heir only upon condition of your finding a bride of equal or superior fortunes. If now you were to engage yourself to me, your grandfather would disinherit you. I love you too well," she murmured very low, "to ruin your fortunes. You must not bind yourself to me just now, Thurston."
And this loving, frank and generous creature was the woman, he thought, whose good name he would have periled in a clandestine courtship in preference to losing his inheritance by an open betrothal. A stab of compunction pierced his bosom; he felt that he loved her more than ever, but passion was stronger than affection, stronger than conscience, stronger than anything in nature, except pride and ambition. He lightened his clasp about her waist—he bent and whispered:
"Beloved Marian, is it to bind me only that you hesitate?"