'I thought, Marie, that as under these walls we had our first serious conversation, as under these walls you had first been guided from trivial things by my hand, there could be no place better for a talk of this importance, and asking you to do the first favour I request of you.' She was profoundly moved. She had wronged him. She had thought him indifferent to her to-day, and all the time he had been taking the most elaborate care of her, had been expending the finest portion of his intellect, and the deepest fountains of his love on her. She looked upon him with gratitude that was a kind of worship, and said,-- 'I will promise you beforehand. I will promise now to do in my life all you may ask me.' 'No,' he said. 'That would not be a wise or a just promise.' 'I will promise, then, beforehand.' 'No; there is no reason for that. That would be unfair. Besides, there is no reason why you should not know what I want you to promise. It is this, "I promise God never to be again indifferent to religious matters; to adhere to the faith of the Church in which I was born, the faith of the Church in which I now kneel, and to marry no man who does not belong to the faith of this Church, and take an active part in its worship."' She repeated the words slowly and distinctly. When she had finished, she looked up at him with eyes full of happy tears, and said,-- 'It would be a great sin to break that promise, George?' 'It would. A great sin.' 'That promise is as binding in your eyes as the marriage ceremony?' 'Quite as binding in my eyes as the marriage ceremony.' 'Oh, thank you for having asked me to make it, and to make it here. I feel now as if some great dread or weight had fallen off me.' 'But, Marie, you have accepted a grave responsibility.' 'How?' she asked, looking up at him incredulously. 'You have promised to be a practical Christian of the Church of England all your life.' 'That will not be very hard; and you will help me all my life.' 'But if I die you must not marry any man of any other faith.' 'I shall marry one man, and one only, and that is you. I will add that to the promise.' 'No, no. Such a promise would be wrong. You have done all I ask.' 'Will you do all I ask now, George?' 'What is it?' 'Believe that all the love woman has to give to man I give to you, and that I am more grateful to you for the trust you have shown in me to-day than for all the other things you will ever do for me.' 'Trust! What trust, my love, my child?' He looked at her with a puzzled, perplexed expression. 'When, although you do not know me a month, you take my word that I will not do a certain thing, even if I live twenty years after you die.' He looked at her in amazement.