She had already regretted her sharp words; love and anger were balanced in her bosom so evenly, that it took but a trifle to disturb the equilibrium; and now his forbearance and his kind words completely upset the scale, and love ascended. Turning to him once more, and throwing herself in his open arms, she burst into tears, and said— “Dearest Mark, only give up this mad, mad project, and I am all yours. Oh, you know I am, any way; for even now the separation that would pain you, would kill or madden me! But, oh! you know I cannot endure the hardships you would prepare for me; they would be equally fatal. Give it up, Mark! Dear Mark, give it up, for my sake, for your dear mother’s sake, for all our sakes! Stay with us! do not divide us, and break our hearts, by leaving us! We all love you so! you know we do! We would do anything in the world for you, if you would stay with us! And I only grow angry and lose my senses, and utter mad words, when you talk of leaving us! Don’t go, Mark! Dearest Mark, don’t leave us.” And so she pleaded, hiding her tears and blushes on his shoulder, and clasping, and pressing, and kissing his neck and cheek. The pleadings of young beauty to young love, most powerful, most painful to resist, yet they were resisted, mournfully, but calmly and firmly, resisted. She raised her head from his shoulder. “And you persist in your purpose?” she said. “My India, I cannot do otherwise.” “Notwithstanding all the suffering you may cause your mother, your relatives, and me?” “My own India, I would I could bear all your grief in my own person.” “But you adhere to your resolution?” “I have no alternative.” “And this is your final decision?” He bowed. “Even if you should lose me for ever?” He started, as if suddenly struck by a bullet. He changed colour, but did not speak. She regarded him fixedly. At last she said, slowly and calmly— “Will you please to answer my question?” “India,” he said, “I will not for a moment, admit such a possibility. God will never repay fidelity to conscience with calamity.” “Perhaps it might not _be_ a calamity. I think it were well we should understand each other. The question is now before you—do not evade it.” “My India, it is not _practically_ before me. No, thank Heaven, the intolerable alternative of resigning you or my principles is _not_ yet before me.” “By all our past dreams, and present hopes, of happiness, I assure you that the alternative is now submitted to you, sir. And I adjure you, by your conscience, and by the strength of your vaunted principles, to decide the question, which I now repeat to you—if the adherence of your present purpose involve the final loss of my hand and heart, do you still persist in that purpose?”