did not, reproached him; she could almost have scorned him for listening
to the hesitations of the despicable girl so little resembling what she
really was--a poor untried girl, anxious only on behalf of her family to
spare them a sudden shock. Remembering her generous considerations in
their interests, she thought he should have known that the creature he
called a child would have yielded upon supplication to fly with him.
Her considerateness for him too, it struck her next, was the cause of
her seeming cowardly, and the man ought to have perceived it and put it
aside. He should have seen that she could be brave, and was a mate for
him. And if his shallow experience of her wrote her down nerveless, his
love should be doing.

Was it love? Her restoration to the belief in her possessing a decided
will whispered of high achievements she could do in proof of love, had
she the freedom of a man. She would not have listened (it was quite
true) to a silly supplicating girl; she would not have allowed an
interval to yawn after the first wild wooing of her. Prince Marko loved.
Yes, that was love! It failed in no sign of the passion. She set
herself to study it in Marko, and was moved by many sentiments, numbering
among them pity, thankfulness, and the shiver of a feeling between
admiration and pathetic esteem, like that the musician has for a precious
instrument giving sweet sound when shattered. He served her faithfully,
in spite of his distaste for some of his lady's commissions. She had to
get her news of Alvan through Marko. He brought her particulars of the
old trial of Alvan, and Alvan's oration in defence of himself for a
lawless act of devotion to the baroness; nothing less than the
successfully scheming to wrest by force from that lady's enemy a document
precious to her lawful interests. It was one of those cases which have a
really high gallant side as well as a bad; an excellent case for
rhetoric. Marko supplied the world's opinion of the affair, bravely