At present her mind was at rest in regard to Mr. Lane, for he had written that his regiment had returned from an expedition on which they had encountered little else than mud, sleet, and rain. The prospects now were that some monotonous picket-duty in a region little exposed to danger would be their chief service, and that they would be given time to rest and recruit. This lull in the storm of war was Merwyn's opportunity. The inclement evenings often left Marian unoccupied, and she divided her time between her mother's sitting-room and her father's library, where she often found her quondam suitor, and not infrequently he spent an hour or two with her in the parlor. In a certain sense she had accepted her father's suggestions. She was studying the enigma with a lively curiosity, as she believed, and had to admit to herself that the puzzle daily became more interesting. Merwyn pleased her fastidious taste and interested her mind, and the possibilities suggested by her own and her father's words made him an object of peculiar and personal interest. The very uniqueness of their relations increased her disposition to think about him. It might be impossible that he should ever become even her friend; he might become her husband. Her father's remark, "I don't know how much it might cost you to dismiss him finally," had led to many questionings. Other young men she substantially understood. She could gauge their value, influence, and attractiveness almost at once; but what possibilities lurked in this reticent man who came so near her ideal, yet failed at a vital point? The wish, the effort to understand him, gave an increasing zest to their interviews. He had asked her to be his wife. She had understood him then, and had replied as she would again if he should approach her in a similar spirit. Again, at any hour he would ask her hand if she gave him sufficient encouragement, and she knew it. He would be humility itself in suing for the boon, and she knew this also, yet she did not understand him at all. His secret fascinated her, yet she feared it. It must be either some fatal flaw in his character, or else a powerful restraint imposed from without. If it was the former she would shrink from him at once; if the latter, it would indeed be a triumph, a proof of her power, to so influence him that he would make her the first consideration in the world. Every day, however, increased her determination to exert this influence only by firmly maintaining her position. If he wished her friendship and an equal chance with others for more, he must prove himself the equal of others in all respects. By no words would she ever now hint that he should take their course; but she allowed herself to enhance his motives by permitting him to see her often, and by an alluring yet elusive courtesy, of which she was a perfect mistress.