It was a little time later that Mary came in. She looked white and weary; her eyes had a metallic gleam in them. All the same, she flushed under Ralph's steady gaze. She murmured something to the effect that she had no idea Lady Dashwood was not there.
"Never mind about Lady Dashwood for the present," Ralph said. "In fact, I asked her to leave us together for a time. I have something important to say to you, Mary. Come out on the terrace with me."
It was not so much a request as a command and Mary felt the hot blood rising to her face. And yet she could not decline coldly with Ralph's eyes on hers. He seemed to possess some magnetic influence over her. Without a word they passed side by side out on to the terrace.
It was a perfect night, with a full moon swinging high overhead. In the distance the silver light played on the roofs and chimneys of the Hall. Ralph stood in rapt contemplation of the scene for a moment.
"It is absolutely perfect," he said. "A good old house in a grand old English landscape. And for three hundred years a Dashwood has reigned here. Truly a thing to swell the heart with honest pride. No wonder you are fond of it, Mary; no wonder you would make any sacrifice to retain possession of it. But the price is too heavy. Tomorrow you must send Horace Mayfield about his business."
"It is too late," Mary said coldly. "I have made up my mind. Other women have made far heavier sacrifices than this. And I shall get used to it."
"Never! You are not going to do it. I will not permit you to commit this sin."
The girl's face blazed with anger, then her cheeks grew white again. She would have liked to turn upon Ralph with passionate scorn, but her sense of truth and justice held her back. For what he said she knew to be dreadfully, hopelessly true.
"Yes, a sin," Ralph said quietly. "The deliberate violation of a sacrament. You will go to the altar with a lie on your lips, your whole life will be a lie. To my mind, one of the most horrible things is the sight of a young girl who has married an old man for the sake of his money. To me it is hideous. And your sin will be worse than that, far worse. Picture it, think of it, Mary, before it is too late."
The girl's head drooped, in spite of her pride and her courage, the tears streamed down her face, her frame was shaken by passionate sobs.