He had to wait for some little time, walking slowly up and down; very eager for the interview that was to come, yet with a consciousness that his fate would seem only so much the darker to him afterwards, when he had to turn his back upon this place, with perhaps no hope of ever seeing Marian again.  At last there came a light footfall; the door was opened, and his lost love came into the room.

Gilbert Fenton was standing near the fire-place, with his back to the light.  For the first few moments it was evident that Marian did not recognize him.  She came towards him slowly, with a wondering look in her face, and then stopped suddenly with a faint cry of surprise.

“You here!” she exclaimed.  “O, how did you find this place?  Why did you come?”

She clasped her hands, looking at him in a half-piteous way that went straight to his heart.  What he had told Mrs. Branston was quite true.  It was not in him to be angry with this girl.  Whatever bitterness there might have been in his mind until this moment fled away at sight of her.  His heart had no room for any feeling but tenderness and pity.

“Did you imagine that I should rest until I had seen you once more, Marian?  Did you suppose I should submit to lose you without hearing from your own lips why I have been so unfortunate?”

“I did not think you would waste time or thought upon any one so wicked as I have been towards you,” she answered slowly, standing before him with a pale sad face and downcast eyes.  “I fancied that whatever love you had ever felt for me—­and I know how well you did love me—­would perish in a moment when you found how basely I had acted.  I hoped that it would be so.”

“No, Marian; love like mine does not perish so easily as that.  O, my love, my love, why did you forsake me so cruelly?  What had I done to merit your desertion of me?”

“What had you done!  You had only been too good to me.  I know that there is no excuse for my sin.  I have prayed that you and I might never meet again.  What can I say?  From first to last I have been wrong.  From first to last I have acted weakly and wickedly.  I was flattered and gratified by your affection for me; and when I found that my dear uncle had set his heart upon our marriage, I yielded against my own better reason, which warned me that I did not love you as you deserved to be loved.  Then for a long time I was blind to the truth.  I did not examine my own heart.  I was quite able to estimate all your noble qualities, and I fancied that I should be very happy as your wife.  But you must remember that at the last, when you were leaving England, I asked you to release me, and told you that it would be happier for both of us to be free.”

“Why was that, Marian?”

“Because at that last moment I began to doubt my own heart.”

“Had there been any other influence at work, Marian?  Had you seen your husband, Mr. Holbrook, at that time?” She blushed crimson, and the slender hands nervously clasped and unclasped themselves before she spoke.