“Could you marry that beggar on better?”
“Alas! no.”
“Tell me, are you satisfied with your choice?”
She looked so irresolute that he trembled and was sorry that he had asked the question. Her better angel took wings, however, and she laid her hand on his shoulder, saying, “I make no other.”
So she went on her travels with Barclay in her train, and Osgood went on a voyage in the Stormy Petrel as third mate. When autumn came, and the travelers had returned to town, Lily grew miserable. One day she told Barclay that she wanted to read him a poem. He composed himself to listen, and she read “The Palace of Art.”
“‘What is it that will take away my sin,
And save me lest I die?’”—
she repeated.
“Barclay,” she entreated, “let me throw your royal robes away, and go to those friends of Osgood’s, where I may learn that I am either worthy of you or of him.”
A stormy scene ensued. He would neither allow her to go, he said, nor would he give her back her promise to him. But she was firm, and said that she must go. His imprecations and his tears agitated her, but did not shake her resolution. She had a battle with her father also when she mentioned the subject, but she triumphed over him so far as to make him promise to accompany her. She sent the letter of introduction to Peter, and received a pithy reply from him. He advised her to come. With Peter and Maria she learned why Osgood wished her to visit them. She left them with a request that they should allow her to return whenever she should wish.
She found Barclay sullen and unhappy; but in spite of himself she convinced him that they were not intended for each other. It was a work to persuade him to the contrary; but at last they parted not as foes but friends.