Given the absolute simplicity of the girl’s religious thoughts, her upbringing, the superstition which underlay all beliefs in the old tenets of the Church during this period of stress and struggle through which she was groping her way through darkness into light: given Lenora’s pure nature and the proud humility which accepted unquestioningly all the commands of those whom she had been taught to reverence, was it to be wondered at that while she was quite ready to do her duty, she should nevertheless hope and think that she had at last received a distinct, supernatural sign that her journey to Brussels was not one of those decrees of God before which everything on earth must bow and every obstacle be removed? But even then--in spite of her wishes and her hopes--she fought on to the last and refused to yield to the sweet, insistent call of peace and of sentiment. What she took to be a sign from God might easily be an insidious machination of the devil. There was a quaint look of gentle amusement in Mark’s eyes, which was certainly disquieting, and it was just possible that it was he who had--wittingly or unwittingly--assumed the role of a guiding Providence in the matter. Therefore she steeled her heart against those subtle whisperings which seemed to lure her on every side to give up the fight, to allow herself to drift on the soothing wave which even now was carrying her to a haven, where all was peace and quietude and where there was neither strife nor intrigue. "Messire," she said abruptly and as repellently as she could, "I pray you enlighten mine ignorance. How many cowardly deeds of this sort stand to your discredit?" He smiled quite unperturbed: "You think me an adept?" he asked quietly. "You are not ashamed?" she retorted. "Not in the least. What have I done?" "Insulted me at every turn," she said very calmly. "What is this detention---here, alone with you, in this strange town, away even from the protection of my own serving wench--what is it but an insult? You have shown me plainly enough, by every means in your power, that you had no liking for me. Even last night..." She paused because tears of humiliation--which she would have given worlds not to shed--would come to her eyes, and her voice shook in spite of every effort which she made at self-control. "Madonna," he entreated, and suddenly he was quite close to her, with one knee almost touching the ground, "as you are beautiful, so will you not be merciful to a miserable wretch, who hath been sorely perplexed by all the disdain which you have so generously lavished upon him?" "Disdain, Messire ... surely I..." "Surely," he broke in gently, "you have every right to despise a worthless fellow whom an evil Chance hath given you for husband, but have I not been punished enough for daring to accept what the kind goddess did offer me?"