"Oh, do not think so much of this perishable, outward beauty; accident may ruin it, sickness may injure it, time will certainly impair it. Do not love me for that which I have no power over, and which may be taken from me at any time--which I shall be sure to lose at last--love me for something better and more lasting than that. I have a heart in this bosom worth all the rest, a heart that in itself is an inner world--a kingdom worthy of your rule--a heart that neither time, fortune, nor casualty can ever change--a heart that loves you now in your strong and beautiful youth, and will love you when you are old and gray, and when you are one of the redeemed of heaven. Love me for this heart." But to have saved her own soul or his, Marian could not then have spoken those words. So he continued to caress her--every moment growing more and more enchanted with her loveliness. There was more of passion than affection in his manner, and Marian felt and regretted this, though her feeling was not a very clearly defined one--it was rather an instinct than a thought, and it was latent, and quite subservient to her love for him. "Love! angel! how enchanting you are," he exclaimed, catching her in his arms and pressing kisses on her cheek and lips and neck. Glowing with color, Marian strove to release herself. "Let me go--let us leave this place, dear Thurston," she pleaded, attempting to rise. "Why? Why are you in such a hurry? Why do you wish to leave me?" he asked, without releasing his hold. "It is late! Dear Thurston, it is late," she said, in vague alarm. "That does not matter--I am with you." "They will be anxious about me, pray let us go! They will be so anxious!" she said, with increasing distress, trying to get away. "Thurston! Thurston! You distress me beyond measure," she exclaimed in great trouble. But he stopped her breath with kisses. Marian suddenly ceased to struggle, and by a strong effort of will she became perfectly calm. And looking in his eyes, with her clear, steady gaze, she said: "Thurston, I have ceased to strive. But if you are a man of honor, you will release me." His arms dropped from around her as if he had been struck dead. Glad to be free, Marian arose to depart. Thurston sat still--his fine countenance overclouded with mortification and anger. Marian hesitated; she knew not how to proceed. He did not offer to rise and attend her. At length she spoke. "Will you see me safely through the woods, Thurston?" He did not answer. "Thurston, it is nearly dark--there are several runaway negroes in the forest now, and the road will not be safe for me." "Good-night, then," she said. "Good-night, Marian."