"I could never tell. The man had some power over him; but how or in what way, I knew not then, nor do I now. My father told me it was a debt--a large sum which he owed him, and could not pay. I know not whether it was that. _I hope it was_." "You think, then, that Stebbins used some such means to force your father's consent?" "I am sure of it. My father told me as much. He said that by marrying Stebbins I could save him from disgrace, and entreated, rather than forced me to it. You know, sir, I could not ask why: he was my father. I do think that it was _not_ his wish that I should have that man; but something threatened him." "Did your father know it was a false marriage?" "No, no; I can never think so. I am sure the villain deceived him in that, as he did me. Oh! father could never have done so! People, I believe, thought him wicked, because he was short with them, and used rough language. But he was not wicked. Something had crossed him; and he drank. He was at times unhappy, and perhaps ill-tempered with the world; but never with us. He was always kind to sister and myself-- never scolded us. Ah! no, sir; I can never think he knew that." "He was aware that Stebbins was a Mormon--was he not?" "I have tried to believe that he was not--though Stebbins afterwards told me so." I well knew that he was aware of it, but said nothing. "His saying so," continued she, "proves nothing. If father did know of his being a Mormon, I am sure he was ignorant of the wickedness of these people. There were stories about them; but there were others who contradicted these stories, and said they were all scandal--so little does the world know what is true from what is false. I learnt afterwards that the very worst that was said of them was even less than the truth." "Of course, _you_ knew nothing of Stebbins being a Mormon?" "Oh! sir, how could I? There was nothing said of that. He pretended he was emigrating to Oregon, where a good many had gone. Had I known the truth, I should have drowned myself rather than have gone with him!" "After all, you would not have obeyed your father's will in the matter, had not something else arisen. At his solicitation, you gave your consent; but were you not influenced by the incident that had occurred in the forest-glade?" "Stranger! I have promised you I would conceal nothing; nor shall I. On discovering the falsehood of him who had told me he loved me, I was more than mad--I was revengeful. I will not deny that I felt spite. I scarcely cared what became of me--else how could I have consented to marry a man for whom I had neither love nor liking? On the contrary, I might almost say that I loathed him." "And you _loved_ the other? Speak the truth, Marian! you have promised to do so--you loved Frank Wingrove?" "I did." A deep-drawn sigh followed the confession. "Once more speak the truth--you _love him still_?" "Oh! if he had been true--if he had been true!"