He had lost a mental or spiritual faculty--what then? That was his own individual personal loss. It hurt no one else; it profited no one else. It was a matter purely between Heaven and himself. It had shocked his mother, but it had not changed the relations between her and him. What! What was he coming at? What was he gradually approaching? What part of his brain had been dead, benumbed, until now? What glory and overwhelming joy lay right in his path? Let him put the matter soberly to himself. Suppose the alteration in his faith had caused no change in the relations between him and his mother, why should it cause any change between Marie and himself? Why should he give up Marie any more than his mother? There was that Promise, that Vow. But now he looked on that vow, or the object of it, as valueless. The very terms of it were now void. It was purposeless. She had made a vow to him from which he could, of course, release her, since, from his present standpoint, that vow was of no more value than the breath which uttered it. He threw up his head, and looked around. Nevill was directing Kate's attention to something in the landscape. Marie's eyes were fixed mournfully upon him. He stooped forward, caught both her hands in his, and drew her towards him, until his lips could reach her ear. Then he said,-- 'Marie, Marie, forgive me, my darling! I have been a great fool! Oh, my love, will you forgive me for all my queer conduct, and all my queer words of late? Nothing of the kind ever can occur again. Never, my Marie. Will you forgive me?' She looked in his face with tears of joy in her eyes. 'Oh, thank God; thank God, George!' 'Nothing of the kind shall ever come between us again, my own love.' She replied with only a radiant smile. He touched her forehead with his lips, and then released her hands. The great cloud which had fallen upon them had lifted, and its shadow was quickly drifting away. CHAPTER IX. MARIE'S PROMISE TO MRS OSBORNE. When the travellers arrived at Stratford they drove to Mrs Osborne's. She was expecting them, and was sitting in the drawing-room with Alice. 'Mother,' said George joyously, 'Miss Gordon.' Mrs Osborne first held out her right hand, then her left, and caught a hand of the girl's in each of her own. Marie smiled and blushed, and tried to bow. Mrs Osborne looked long and steadily at the girl before she spoke. When she broke silence she said,--'Thank you, my dear, for coming. You are most welcome. You and I must be great friends. I and George are great friends.' She let go the girl's hands, and turning up the radiant young face, held it a moment between her hands, looking admiringly at its bright young beauty. Then she kissed the red rounded cheek, and turning to Alice, said,--'Miss Gordon, this is my younger daughter Alice. I am sure you and she will be friends.'