"Oh! it was my fault!"--and she clasped her hands in a gesture at once childish and piteous--"I somehow knew from the beginning that you thought me different from what I am. It was quite natural. You're much older than I, and of course--of course--you thought that if--if I loved you--I'd be guided by you--and think as you wish. But Edward, you see I've had to live by myself--and think for myself--more than other girls--because mother was always busy with other things--that didn't concern me--that I didn't care about--and I was left alone--and had to puzzle out a lot of things that I never talked about. I'm obstinate--I'm proud. I must believe for myself--and not because some one else does. I don't know where I shall come out. And that's the strange thing! Before we were engaged, I didn't know I had a mind!" She smiled at him pitifully through her tears. "And ever since we've been engaged--this few weeks--I've been doing nothing but think and think--and all the time it's been carrying me away from you. And now this trouble. I _couldn't_"--she clenched her hand with a passionate gesture--"I _couldn't_ do what you're doing. It would kill me. You seem to be obeying something outside--which you're quite sure of. But if _I_ drove those two people to despair, because I thought something was wrong that they thought right, I should never have any happiness in my heart--my _own heart_--again. Love seems to me everything!--being kind--not giving pain. And for you there's something greater--what the Church says--what the Bible says. And I could never see that. I could never agree. I could never submit. And we should be miserable. You'd think I was wicked--and I--well!"--she panted a little, trying for her words--"there are ugly--violent--feelings in me sometimes. I couldn't hate _you_--but--Edward--just now--I felt I could hate--what you believe!" The sudden change in his look smote her to the heart. She held out her hands, imploring. "Forgive me! Oh, do forgive me!" During her outburst he had risen, and was now leaning against a young tree beside her, looking down upon her--white and motionless. He had made no effort to take her hands, and they dropped upon her knee. "This is terrible!" he said, as though to himself, and half-consciously--"terrible!" "But indeed--indeed--it's best." Her voice, which was little more than a whisper, was broken by a sob. She buried her face in the hands he had left untaken. The minutes seemed endless till he spoke again; and then it was with a composure which seemed to her like the momentary quiet that may come--the sudden furling of the winds--in the very midst of tempest. She divined the tempest, in this man of profound and concentrated feeling; but she had not dared to watch it. "Marcia--is it really true? Couldn't I make you happy? Couldn't I lead you to look at things as I do? As you say, I am older, I have had more time to think and learn. If you love me, wouldn't it be right, that--I should influence you?"