<h2 id="id00755" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
<h5 id="id00756">LOVE.</h5>
<p id="id00757" style="margin-top: 2em">This was but one of many such meetings, Thurston growing more and more
infatuated each time, while Marian scarcely tried to hide the pleasure
which his society gave her.</p>
<p id="id00758">One day when riding through the forest he met Marian returning from
the village and on foot. She was radiant with health and beauty, and
blushing and smiling with joy as she met him. A little basket hung upon
her arm. To dismount and join her, to take the basket from her arm, and
to look in her face and declare in broken exclamations his delight at
seeing her, were the words and the work of an instant.</p>
<p id="id00759">"And whither away this morning, fairest Marian?" he inquired, when
unrebuked he had pressed her hand to his lips, and drawn it through his
arm.</p>
<p id="id00760">"I have been to the village, and am now going home," said the maiden.</p>
<p id="id00761">"It is a long walk through the forest."</p>
<p id="id00762">"Yes; but my pony has cast a shoe and lamed himself slightly, and I fear<br/>
I shall have to dispense with his services for a few days."<br/></p>
<p id="id00763">"Thank God!" fervently ejaculated Thurston to himself.</p>
<p id="id00764">"But it is beautiful weather, and I enjoy walking," said the young girl.</p>
<p id="id00765">"Marian—dearest Marian, will you let me attend you home? The walk is
lonely, and it may not be quite safe for a fair woman to take it
unattended."</p>
<p id="id00766">"I have no fear of interruption," said Marian.</p>
<p id="id00767">"Yet you will not refuse to let me attend you? Do not, Marian!" he
pleaded, earnestly, fervently, clasping her hand, and pouring the whole
strength of his soul in the gaze that he fastened on her face.</p>
<p id="id00768">"I thank you; but you were riding the other way."</p>
<p id="id00769">"It was merely an idle saunter, to help to kill the time between this
and Sunday, dearest girl. Now, rest you, my queen! my queen! upon this
mossy rock, as on a throne, while I ride forward and leave my horse. I
will be with you again in fifteen minutes; in the meantime here is
something for you to look at," he said, drawing from his pocket an
elegant little volume bound in purple and gold, and laying it in her
lap. He then smiled, sprang into his saddle, bowed, and galloped away,
leaving Marian to examine her book. It was a London copy of Spenser's
Fairy Queen, superbly illustrated, one of the rarest books to be found
in the whole country at that day. On the fly-leaf the name of Marian was
written, in the hand of Thurston.</p>
<p id="id00770">Some minutes passed in the pleasing examination of the volume; and
Marian was still turning the leaves with unmixed pleasure—pleasure in
the gift, and pleasure in the giver—when Thurston, even before the
appointed time, suddenly rejoined her.</p>
<p id="id00771">"So absorbed in Spenser that you did not even hear or see me!" said the
young man, half reproachfully.</p>
<p id="id00772">"I was indeed far gone in Fairy Land! Oh, I thank you so much for your
beautiful present! It is indeed a treasure. I shall prize it greatly,"
said Marian, in unfeigned delight.</p>
<p id="id00773">"Do you know that Fairy Land is not obsolete, dearest Marian?" he said,
fixing his eyes upon her charming face with an ardor and earnestness
that caused hers to sink.</p>
<p id="id00774">"Come," she said, in a low voice, and rising from the rock; "let us
leave this place and go forward."</p>
<p id="id00775">They walked on, speaking softly of many things—of the vision of
Spenser, of the beautiful autumnal weather, of anything except the one
interest that now occupied both hearts. The fear of startling her
bashful trust, and banishing those bewitching glances that sometimes
lightened on his face, made him cautious, and restrained his eagerness;
while excessive consciousness kept her cheeks dyed with blushes, and her
nerves vibrating sweet, wild music, like the strings of some aeolian
harp when swept by the swift south wind.</p>
<p id="id00776">He determined, during the walk, to plead his love, and ascertain his
fate. Ay! but how approach the subject when, at every ardent glance or
tone, her face, her heart, shrank and closed up, like the leaves of the
sensitive plant.</p>
<p id="id00777">So they rambled on, discovering new beauties in nature; now it would be
merely an oak leaf of rare richness of coloring; now some tiny insect
with finished elegance of form; now a piece of the dried branch of a
tree that Thurston picked up, to bid her note the delicately blending
shades in its gray hue, or the curves and lines of grace in its twisted
form—the beauty of its slow return to dust; and now perhaps it would
be the mingled colors in the heaps of dried leaves drifted at the foot
of some great tree.</p>
<p id="id00778">And then from the minute loveliness of nature's sweet, small things,
their eyes would wander to the great glory of the autumnal sky, or the
variegated array of the gorgeous forest.</p>
<p id="id00779">Thurston knew a beautiful glade, not far distant, to the left of their
path, from which there was a very fine view that he wished to show his
companion. And he led Marian thither by a little moss-bordered,
descending path.</p>
<p id="id00780">It was a natural opening in the forest, from which, down a still,
descending vista, between the trees, could be seen the distant bay, and
the open country near it, all glowing under a refulgent sky, and hazy
with the golden mist of Indian Summer. Before them the upper branches of
the nearest trees formed a natural arch above the picture.</p>
<p id="id00781">Marian stood and gazed upon the wondrous beauty of the scene with soft,
steady eyes, with lips breathlessly severed, in perfect silence and
growing emotion.</p>
<p id="id00782">"This pleases you," said Thurston.</p>
<p id="id00783">She nodded, without removing her gaze.</p>
<p id="id00784">"You find it charming?"</p>
<p id="id00785">She nodded again, and smiled.</p>
<p id="id00786">"You were never here before?"</p>
<p id="id00787">"Never."</p>
<p id="id00788">"Marian, you are a lover of nature."</p>
<p id="id00789">"I do not know," she said, softly, "whether it be love, or worship, or
both; but some pictures spell-bind me. I stand amidst a scene like this,
enchanted, until my soul has absorbed as much of its beauty and glory
and wisdom as it can absorb. As the Ancient Mariner held with his
'glittering eye' the wedding guest, so such a picture holds me
enthralled until I have heard the story and learned the lesson it has to
tell and teach me. Did you ever, in the midst of nature's liberal
ministrations, feel your spirit absorbing, assimilating, growing? Or is
it only a fantastic action of mine that beauty is the food of soul?"</p>
<p id="id00790">She turned her eloquent eyes full upon him.</p>
<p id="id00791">He forgot his prudence, forgot her claims, forgot everything, and caught
and strained her to his bosom, pressing passionate kisses upon her lips,
and the next instant he was kneeling at her feet, imploring her to
forgive him—to hear him.</p>
<p id="id00792">Marian stood with her face bowed and hidden in her hands; but above the
tips of her fingers, her forehead, crimsoned, might be seen. One half
her auburn hair had escaped and rippled down in glittering disorder. And
so she stood a few moments. But soon, removing her hands and turning
away, she said, in a troubled tone:</p>
<p id="id00793">"Rise. Never kneel to any creature; that homage is due the Creator
alone. Oh, rise!"</p>
<p id="id00794">"First pardon me—first hear me, beloved girl!"</p>
<p id="id00795">"Oh, rise—rise, I beg you! I cannot bear to see a man on his knee,
except in prayer to God!" she said, walking away.</p>
<p id="id00796">He sprang up and followed her, took her hand, and, with gentle
compulsion, made her sit down upon a bank; and then he sank beside her,
exclaiming eagerly, vehemently, yet in a low, half-smothered tone:</p>
<p id="id00797">"Marian, I love you! I never spoke these words to woman before, for I
never loved before. Marian, the first moment that I saw you I loved you,
without knowing what new life it was that had kindled in my nature. I
have loved you more and more every day! I love you more than words can
tell or heart conceive! I only live in your presence! Marian! not one
word or glance for me? Oh, speak! Turn your dear face toward me," he
said, putting his hand gently around her head. "Speak to me, Marian, for
I adore—I worship you!"</p>
<p id="id00798">"I do not deserve to be loved in that way. I do not wish it, for it is
wrong—idolatrous," she said, in a low, trembling voice.</p>
<p id="id00799">"Oh! what do you mean? Is the love upon which my life seems to hang so
offensive to you? Say, Marian! Oh! you are compassionate by nature; how
can you keep me in the torture of suspense?"</p>
<p id="id00800">"I do not keep you so."</p>
<p id="id00801">"You will let me love you?"</p>
<p id="id00802">Marian slipped her hand in his; that was her reply.</p>
<p id="id00803">"You will love me?"</p>
<p id="id00804">For all answer she gently pressed his fingers. He pressed her hand to
his heart, to his lips, covering it with kisses.</p>
<p id="id00805">"Yet, oh! speak to me, dearest; let me hear from your lips that you love
me—a little—but better than I deserve. Will you? Say, Marian! Speak,
dearest girl!"</p>
<p id="id00806">"I cannot tell you now," she said, in a low, thrilling tone. "I am
disturbed; I wish to grow quiet; and I must go home. Let us return."</p>
<p id="id00807">One more passionate kiss of the hand he clasped, and then he helped her
to her feet, drew her arm within his own, and led her up the
moss-covered rocks that formed the natural steps of the ascent that led
to the homeward path.</p>
<p id="id00808">They were now near the verge of the forest, which, when they reached,<br/>
Marian drew her arm from his, and, extending her hand, said:<br/></p>
<p id="id00809">"This is the place our roads part."</p>
<p id="id00810">"But you will let me attend you home?"</p>
<p id="id00811">"No; it would make the return walk too long."</p>
<p id="id00812">"That can be no consideration, I beg you will let me go with you,<br/>
Marian."<br/></p>
<p id="id00813">"No; it would not be convenient to Edith to-day," said Marian, quickly
drawing her hand from his detaining grasp, waving him adieu, and walking
swiftly away across the meadow.</p>
<p id="id00814">Thurston gazed after her, strongly tempted to follow her; yet withal
admitting that it was best that she had declined his escort to the
cottage, and thanking Heaven that the opportunity would again be
afforded to take an "incidental" stroll with her, as she should walk to
church on Sunday morning; and so, forming the resolution to haunt the
forest-path from seven o'clock that next Sabbath morning until he should
see her, Thurston hurried home.</p>
<p id="id00815">And how was it with Marian? She hastened to the cottage, laid off her
bonnet and shawl, and set herself at work as diligently as usual; but a
higher bloom glowed on her cheek, a softer, brighter light beamed in her
eye, a warmer, sweeter smile hovered around her lips, a deeper, richer
tone thrilled in her voice.</p>
<p id="id00816">On Sunday morning the lovers "chanced" to meet again—for so Thurston
would still have had it appear as he permitted Marian to overtake him in
the forest on her way to the Sunday-school.</p>
<p id="id00817">She was blooming and beautiful as the morning itself as she approached.<br/>
He turned with a radiant smile to greet her.<br/></p>
<p id="id00818">"Welcome! thrice welcome, dearest one! Your coming is more joyous than
that of day. Welcome, my own, dear Marian! May I now call you mine? Have
I read that angel-smile aright? Is it the blessed herald of a happy
answer to my prayer?" he whispered, as he took her hand and passed his
arm around her head and brought it down upon his bosom. "Speak, my
Marian! Speak, my beloved! Are you my own, as I am yours?"</p>
<p id="id00819">Her answer was so low-toned that he had to bend his head down close to
her lips to hear her murmur:</p>
<p id="id00820">"I love you dearly. But I love you too well to ruin your prospects. You
must not bind yourself to me just yet, dear Thurston," and meekly and
gently she sought to slip from his embrace.</p>
<p id="id00821">But he slid his arm around her lightly, bending his head and whispering
eagerly:</p>
<p id="id00822">"What mean you, Marian? Your words are incomprehensible."</p>
<p id="id00823">"Dear Thurston," she answered, in a tremulous and thrilling voice, "I
have known your grandfather long by report, and I am well aware of his
character and disposition and habits. But only yesterday I chanced to
learn from one who was well informed that old Mr. Willcoxen had sworn to
make you his heir only upon condition of your finding a bride of equal
or superior fortunes. If now you were to engage yourself to me, your
grandfather would disinherit you. I love you too well," she murmured
very low, "to ruin your fortunes. You must not bind yourself to me just
now, Thurston."</p>
<p id="id00824">And this loving, frank and generous creature was the woman, he thought,
whose good name he would have periled in a clandestine courtship in
preference to losing his inheritance by an open betrothal. A stab of
compunction pierced his bosom; he felt that he loved her more than ever,
but passion was stronger than affection, stronger than conscience,
stronger than anything in nature, except pride and ambition. He
lightened his clasp about her waist—he bent and whispered:</p>
<p id="id00825">"Beloved Marian, is it to bind me only that you hesitate?"</p>
<p id="id00826">"Only that," she answered, softly.</p>
<p id="id00827">"Now hear me, Marian. I swear before Heaven, and in thy sight—that—as
I have never loved woman before you—that—as I love you only of all
women—I will be faithful to you while I live upon this earth! as your
husband, if you will accept me; as your exclusive lover, whether you
will or not! I hold myself pledged to you as long as we both shall live!
There, Marian! I am bound to you as tight as vows can bind! I am pledged
to you whether you accept my pledge or not. You cannot even release, for
I am pledged to Heaven as well. There, Marian, you see I am bound, while
you only are free. Come! be generous! You have said that you loved me!
Pledge yourself to me in like manner. We are both young, dear Marian,
and we can wait. Only let me have your promise to be my wife—only let
me have that blessed assurance for the future, and I can endure the
present. Speak, dear Marian."</p>
<p id="id00828">"Your grandfather—"</p>
<p id="id00829">"He has no grudge against you, personally, sweet girl; he knows nothing,
suspects nothing of my preferences—how should he? No, dearest girl—his
notion that I must have a moneyed bride is the merest whim of dotage; we
must forgive the whims of ninety-five. That great age also augurs for us
a short engagement and a speedy union!"</p>
<p id="id00830">"Oh! never let us dream of that! It would be sinful, and draw down upon
us the displeasure of Heaven. Long may the old man yet live to prepare
for a better life."</p>
<p id="id00831">"Amen; so be it; God forbid that I should grudge the aged patriarch his
few remaining days upon earth—days, too, upon which his soul's immortal
welfare may depend," said Thurston. "But, dearest girl, it is more
difficult to get a reply from you than from a prime minister. Answer,
now, once for all, sweet girl! since I am forever bound to you; will you
pledge yourself to become my own dear wife?"</p>
<p id="id00832">"Yes," whispered Marian, very lowly.</p>
<p id="id00833">"And will you," he asked, gathering her form closer to his bosom, "will
you redeem that pledge when I demand it?"</p>
<p id="id00834">"Yes," she murmured sweetly, "so that it is not to harm you, or bring
you into trouble or poverty; for that I would not consent to do!"</p>
<p id="id00835">"God bless you; you are an angel! Oh! Marian! I find it in my heart to
sigh because I am so unworthy of you!"</p>
<p id="id00836">And this was spoken most sincerely.</p>
<p id="id00837">"You think too well of me. I fear—I fear for the consequences."</p>
<p id="id00838">"Why, dearest Marian?"</p>
<p id="id00839">"Oh, I fear that when you know me better you may love me less," she
answered, in a trembling voice.</p>
<p id="id00840">"Why should I?"</p>
<p id="id00841">"Oh! because your love may have been attracted by ideal qualities, with
which you yourself have invested me; and when your eyes are opened you
may love me less."</p>
<p id="id00842">"May my soul forever perish the day that I cease to love you!" said
Thurston, passionately pressing her to his heart, and sealing his
fearful oath upon her pure brow and guileless lips. "And now, beloved!
this compact is sealed! Our fates are united forever! Henceforth nothing
shall dissever us!"</p>
<p id="id00843">They were now drawing near the village.</p>
<p id="id00844">Marian suddenly stopped.</p>
<p id="id00845">"Dear Thurston," she said, "if you are seen waiting upon me to church do
you know what the people will say? They will say that Marian has a new
admirer in Mr. Willcoxen—and that will reach your grandfather's ears,
and give you trouble."</p>
<p id="id00846">"Stay! one moment, beautiful Marian! When shall we meet again?"</p>
<p id="id00847">"When Heaven wills."</p>
<p id="id00848">"And when will that be, fairest?"</p>
<p id="id00849">"I do not know; but do not visit me at the cottage, dear Thurston, it
would be indiscreet."</p>
<p id="id00850">"Marian! I must see you often. Will you meet me on the beach to-morrow
afternoon?"</p>
<p id="id00851">"No," answered Marian, gravely, "in this single instance, I must not
meet you, though my heart pleads like a sick child with me to do it,
Thurston, dear Thurston."</p>
<p id="id00852">She raised her eyes to his as she spoke, and giving way to a sudden
impulse, dropped her head upon his shoulder, put her arms around his
neck, and embraced him. And then his better angel rose above the storm
of passion that was surging through his veins, and calmed the tumult,
and spoke through his lips.</p>
<p id="id00853">"You are right, Marian—fairest and dearest, you are right. And I not
only love you best of all women, but honor you more than all men. It
shall be as you have said. I will not seek you anywhere. As the mother,
dying of plague, denies herself the parting embrace of her 'unstricken'
child—so, for your sake, will I refrain from the heaven of your
presence."</p>
<p id="id00854">"And, dear Thurston," she said, raising her head, "it will not be so
hard to bear, as you now think. We shall see each other every Sunday in
the church, and every Monday in the lecture-room. We shall often be of
the same invited company at neighbors' houses. Remember, also, that
Christmas is coming, with its protracted festivities, when we shall see
each other almost every evening, at some little neighborhood gathering.
And now I must really hurry; oh! how late I am this morning! Good-by,
dearest Thurston!"</p>
<p id="id00855">"Good-by, my own Marian."</p>
<p id="id00856">Blushingly she received, his parting kiss, and hurried along the little
foot-path leading to the village.</p>
<p id="id00857">Thurston had been perfectly sincere in his resolution not to seek a
private interview with Marian; and he kept it faithfully all the week,
with less temptation to break it, because he did not know where to watch
for her.</p>
<p id="id00858">But Sunday came again—and Thurston, with a little bit of human
self-deception and <i>finesse</i>, avoided the forest path, where he had met
her the preceding Sabbath, and saying to himself that he would not
waylay her, took the river road, refusing to confess even to himself
that he acted upon the calculation that she also would take the same
road, in order to avoid meeting him in the forest.</p>
<p id="id00859">His "calculus of probabilities" had not failed him. He had not walked
far upon the forest-shaded banks of the river before he saw Marian
walking before him. He hastened and overtook her.</p>
<p id="id00860">At first seeing him her face flushed radiant with surprise and joy.
She seemed to think that nothing short of necromancy could have conjured
him to that spot. She had no reproaches for him, because she had no
suspicion that he had trifled with his promise not to seek her. But she
expressed her astonishment.</p>
<p id="id00861">"I did not know you ever came this way," she said.</p>
<p id="id00862">"Nor did I ever before, love; but I remembered my pledge, not to follow
or to seek you, and so I avoided the woodland path where we met last
Sunday," said Thurston, persuading himself that he spoke the precise
truth.</p>
<p id="id00863">It is not necessary to pursue with them this walk; lovers scarcely thank
us for such intrusions. It is sufficient to say that this was not the
last one.</p>
<p id="id00864">Blinded by passion and self-deception, and acting upon the same astute
calculus of probabilities, Thurston often contrived to meet Marian in
places where his presence might be least expected, and most often in
paths that she had taken for the express purpose of keeping out of his
way.</p>
<p id="id00865">Thus it fell that many forest walks and seashore strolls were taken, all
through the lovely Indian summer weather. And these seemed so much the
result of pure accident that Marian never dreamed of complaining that
his pledge had been tampered with.</p>
<p id="id00866">But Thurston began to urge her consent to a private marriage.</p>
<p id="id00867">From a secret engagement to a secret marriage, the transition seemed to
him very easy.</p>
<p id="id00868">"And, dearest Marian, we are both of age, both free—we should neither
displease God nor wrong man, by such a step—while it would at the same
time secure our union, and save us from injustice and oppression! do you
not see?"</p>
<p id="id00869">Such was his argument, which he pleaded and enforced with all the powers
of passion and eloquence. In vain. Though every interview increased his
power over the maiden—though her affections and her will were both
subjected, the domain of conscience was unconquered. And Marian still
answered:</p>
<p id="id00870">"Though a secret marriage would break no law of God or man, nor
positively wrong any human creature, yet it might be the cause of
misunderstanding and suspicion—and perhaps calumny, causing much
distress to those who love and respect me. Therefore it would be
wrong. And I must do no wrong, even for your dear sake."</p>
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