“Recall, Marguerite, the day of our betrothal. There was a fierce anguish, a terrible conflict in your mind before you consented to become my wife; that scene has recurred to me again and again. Taken as a link in this chain of inexplicable circumstances connected with you, it becomes of serious importance. Will you explain the cause of your distress upon the occasion referred to?” A groan was her only answer, while her head remained buried in the cushions of the sofa. “So! you will not even clear up that matter?” “Not ‘will not,’ but cannot, Philip, cannot!” “Very well,” he said, again, in a tone that entered her heart like a sword, and made her start up once more and gaze upon him, exclaiming: “Oh, Philip, be merciful! I mean be just! Remember, on the day to which you allude, I warned you, warned you faithfully of much misery that might result from our union; and even before that--oh! remember, Philip, how sedulously I avoided you--how I persevered in trying to keep off the--I had nearly said--catastrophe of our engagement.” “Say it then! nay, you have said it! add that I followed and persecuted you with my suit until I wrested from you a reluctant consent, and that I must now bear the consequences!” “No, no, no, I say not that, nor anything like it. No, Philip, my beloved, my idolized, I am not charging you; Heaven forbid! I am put upon my defense, you know, and earnestly desire to be clear before my judge. Listen then, Philip, to this much of a confession. When I first met you I felt your influence over me. Take this to your heart, Philip, as a shield against doubt of me--you are the first and last and only man I ever loved, if love be the word for that all-pervading power that gives me over body, soul and spirit to your possession. As I said when I first met you, I felt your influence. Day by day this spell increased, and I knew that you were my fate! Yet I tried to battle it off, but even at the great distance I kept I still felt your power growing, Philip, and I knew, I knew that that power would be irresistible! I had resolved never to marry, because, yes! I confess I had a secret (concerning others, you know, Philip), that I could not confide to any other, even to you; therefore I fled your presence--therefore when you overtook and confronted me I warned you faithfully, you know with how little effect! heart and soul I was yours, Philip! you knew it and took possession. And now we are united, Philip, God be thanked, for with all the misery it may bring me, Philip, I am still less wretched than I should be apart from you. And such, I believe, is the case with you. You are happier now, even with the cloud between us, than you would be if severed from me! Ah, Philip, is there any misfortune so great as separation to those whose lives are bound up in each other? Is not the cloudiest union more endurable than dreary severance?”