"No!—you will love her for my sake."
"I can't promise. There are two selves in me. All your Catholic friends—Father Leadham—the Reverend Mother—will be in despair."
She saw him wince. But he spoke firmly. "I ask only what is lawful. I am free in such a matter to choose my own path—under my conscience."
She said nothing for a little. But she pondered on all that he might be facing and sacrificing for such a marriage. Once a cloud of sudden misgiving descended upon her, as though, a bird had brushed her with its black wing. But she shook it away. Her little hand crept back to him—while her face was still hidden from him.
"I ought not to marry you—but—but I will. There—take me!—will you guide me?"
"With all my strength!"
"Will you fight me?"
He laughed. "To the best of my ability—when I must. Did I do it well—that night—about the ghost?"
She shrugged her shoulders—half laughing, half crying.
"No!—you were violent—impossible. Will you never, never let me get the upper hand?"