come?"

She clasped her hands, looking at him in a half-piteous way that went
straight to his heart. What he had told Mrs. Branston was quite true. It
was not in him to be angry with this girl. Whatever bitterness there
might have been in his mind until this moment fled away at sight of her.
His heart had no room for any feeling but tenderness and pity.

"Did you imagine that I should rest until I had seen you once more,
Marian? Did you suppose I should submit to lose you without hearing from
your own lips why I have been so unfortunate?"

"I did not think you would waste time or thought upon any one so wicked
as I have been towards you," she answered slowly, standing before him
with a pale sad face and downcast eyes. "I fancied that whatever love you
had ever felt for me--and I know how well you did love me--would perish
in a moment when you found how basely I had acted. I hoped that it would
be so."

"No, Marian; love like mine does not perish so easily as that. O, my
love, my love, why did you forsake me so cruelly? What had I done to
merit your desertion of me?"

"What had you done! You had only been too good to me. I know that there
is no excuse for my sin. I have prayed that you and I might never meet
again. What can I say? From first to last I have been wrong. From first
to last I have acted weakly and wickedly. I was flattered and gratified
by your affection for me; and when I found that my dear uncle had set his
heart upon our marriage, I yielded against my own better reason, which
warned me that I did not love you as you deserved to be loved. Then for a