"To blame!" he cried, lifting up his head. "You to blame for my folly! But it's not folly," he added impetuously: "it would be downright stupidity not to love you with all my soul."
"Hush! hush!" said Marion, in whose ears his language sounded irreverent. "You couldn't love me with all your soul if you would. God only can be loved with all the power of the human soul."
"If I love him at all, Marion, it is you who have taught me. Do not drive me from you—lest—lest—I should cease to love him, and fall back into my old dreary ways."
"It's a poor love to offer God,—love for the sake of another," she said very solemnly.
"But if it's all one has got?"
"Then it won't do, Roger. I wish you loved me for God's sake instead. Then all would be right. That would be a grand love for me to have."
"Don't drive me from you, Marion," he pleaded. It was all he could say.
"I will not drive you from me. Why should I?"
"Then I may come and see you again?"
"Yes: when you please."