"Never! You are not going to do it. I will not permit you to commit this sin." The girl's face blazed with anger, then her cheeks grew white again. She would have liked to turn upon Ralph with passionate scorn, but her sense of truth and justice held her back. For what he said she knew to be dreadfully, hopelessly true. "Yes, a sin," Ralph said quietly. "The deliberate violation of a sacrament. You will go to the altar with a lie on your lips, your whole life will be a lie. To my mind, one of the most horrible things is the sight of a young girl who has married an old man for the sake of his money. To me it is hideous. And your sin will be worse than that, far worse. Picture it, think of it, Mary, before it is too late." The girl's head drooped, in spite of her pride and her courage, the tears streamed down her face, her frame was shaken by passionate sobs. "Too late," she said. "Oh, I cannot draw back." "Because you sacrifice everything to your foolish pride," Ralph replied. "I see that it is quite useless for me to plead any longer. Therefore, I must take my own way to prevent your wasting your life in this fashion. Would Horace Mayfield care for you if he heard that you had lost your fortune?" "The question is needless," Mary whispered. "Of course he wouldn't." "Let us argue the matter out from that point of view, then. Say that a merciful Providence interferes to prevent this sin of yours. You lose your fortune. Mind, there are many less likely things than this. Your fortune takes wings and flies away. You are free from Mayfield, and also you lose the Hall. What would you do then?" "But you are picturing an almost impossible case. Such a thing is not the least likely." "Indeed, it is. The late heir to the estate vanished and never returned. There was a violent quarrel, the facts of which are only known to Lady Dashwood. Her son died far away without even communicating with his relatives again. So far as we know, he may have left a son behind him. He may have told that son everything or nothing. But suppose that son finds out the truth. What is to prevent his coming back and claiming everything? He would get the title as a matter of course; he would get the estates also if he puts in an appearance before another six months have gone by. If this happens, you are no better than a pauper, Mary. What do you say to that?" "I do not believe in the existence of the man." "No, but I do. Mary, that young man lives. He will declare himself and bring in his proofs before many days are over. He is the instrument chosen by Providence to prevent this deliberate sin of yours. Your reign at Dashwood is over; within a few days you will be as poor as--as myself. Thank God, we shall save you yet." A little cry came from the girl's lips and she stood like a white statue in the moonlight. CHAPTER XXVIII. MORAL FORCE