She clung about him fondly, telling him she cared little what might
become of her life when he should be lost to her. _That_ grief must
needs be the crowning sorrow of her existence; and it would matter
nothing to her what might come afterwards.

"But my dear love, 'afterwards' will make the greater part of your life.
We must consider these things seriously, Marian. A good man's affection
is not to be thrown away rashly. You have known Mr. Fenton a very short
time; and perhaps it is only natural you should think of him with
comparative indifference."

"I did not say I was indifferent to him, uncle George; only that I do not
love him as he seems to love me. It would be a kind of sin to accept so
much and to give so little."

"The love will come, Marian; I am sure that it will come."

She shook her head playfully.

"What a darling match-making uncle it is!" she said, and then kissed him
and ran away.

She thought of Gilbert Fenton a good deal during the rest of that day;
thought that it was a pleasant thing to be loved so truly, and hoped that
she might always have him for her friend. When she went out to drink tea
in the evening his image went with her; and she found herself making
involuntary comparisons between a specimen of provincial youth whom she
encountered at her friend's house and Mr. Fenton, very much to the
advantage of the Australian merchant.