Even the element of secrecy which, as much for her own sake as for his, Marston imported into the romance was not without its harm. Ruth knew now that both her mother and father would be opposed to her match. She saw that Gurth Egerton was in high favour, and, so far as they were concerned, would be a formidable rival to her poor Ned. But she was her own mistress now, and could decide for herself. Gurth Egerton was a very pleasant gentleman, but he came too late. She had no heart left to give. Marston had won it long ago, and now he had the right to claim it. When Marston called, he did so by Ruth’s advice. She didn’t want Gurth Egerton to have the field entirely to himself. She was sure Marston was quite as agreeable as he was. Of course she had told Marston about Gurth—about the tea-party and his constant visits. Of the interview with her father she herself knew nothing. Marston was seriously alarmed. He remembered his interview with Gurth, and he felt that it would not do to despise such a foe too much. Acting on Ruth’s hint he determined to ingratiate himself with the Adrians as much as he could, and, if possible, cut Gurth out on his own ground. He knew that so far as Ruth was concerned he had nothing to fear, but for her sake he was anxious that she should marry him with the full and free approbation of her parents. He felt that she would never really be happy under any other circumstances, and, strange as it may seem, Ruth’s happiness was with him now a primary consideration. He had gradually come to love his old sweetheart again with an affection as pure and disinterested as that she felt for him. She seemed to him, like an angel of light, to banish the darkness of the past. He never really knew how vile and wicked he had been till he looked into Ruth’s sweet eyes, and thought that one day she would bear his name. He shuddered sometimes now as he thought of what an awful past was linked with that name. Now that Ruth had assured him of her love, now that the bright pages were open once more in his book of life, he recognized, for the first time, the depth to which he had fallen. There was much in the past about which he hesitated to think; there were secrets buried away in the bygone years of poverty and scheming which once he could remember with a smile, but which now made him tremble to think that some day they might be dragged into the glaring light of day. ‘What a different man I might have been had such a woman’s love been mine years ago!’ he thought; but never for a moment did he blame Ruth for the part she had played when his future hung in the balance. He was innocence itself then in comparison with what he had been when he plunged, reckless and despairing, into the black abyss of crime. Even the deed which had given him fortune, the well-planned and cleverly executed robbery which had astonished the world and left him independent of crime for the future, terrified him now.