“Suppose something should prevent our marriage?” I suggested.

“But nothing can,” she interrupted; “and, O Martin!  I am sure you will be very happy with Julia.”

I said no more, for I did not dare to tell her yet; but I wished I had spoken to her about Olivia, instead of hiding her name, and all belonging to her, in my inmost heart.  My mother would know all quite soon enough, unless Julia and I agreed to keep it secret, and let things go on as they were.

If Julia said she would marry me, knowing that I was heart and soul in love with another woman, why, then I would go through with it, and my mother need never hear a word about my dilemma.

Julia must decide my lot.  My honor was pledged to her; and if she insisted upon the fulfilment of my engagement to her, well, of course, I would fulfil it.

I went down reluctantly at length to the new house; but it was at almost the last hour.  The church-clocks had already struck four; and I knew Johanna would be true to her time, and drive up the Grange at five.  I left a message with my mother for her, telling her where she would find Julia and me.  Then doggedly, but sick at heart with myself and all the world, I went down to meet my doom.

It was getting into nice order, this new house of ours.  We had had six months to prepare it in, and to fit it up exactly to our minds; and it was as near my ideal of a pleasant home as our conflicting tastes permitted.  Perhaps this was the last time I should cross its threshold.  There was a pang in the thought.

This was my position.  If Julia listened to my avowal angrily, and renounced me indignantly, passionately, I lost fortune, position, profession; my home and friends, with the sole exception of my mother.  I should be regarded alternately as a dupe and a scoundrel.  Guernsey would become too hot to hold me, and I should be forced to follow my luck in some foreign land.  If, on the other hand, Julia clung to me, and would not give me up, trusting to time to change my feelings, then I lost Olivia; and to lose her seemed the worse fate of the two.

Julia was sitting alone in the drawing-room, which overlooked the harbor and the group of islands across the channel.  There was no fear of interruption; no callers to ring the bell and break in upon our tete-a-tete.  It was an understood thing that at present only Julia’s most intimate friends had been admitted into our new house, and then by special invitation alone.

There was a very happy, very placid expression on her face.  Every harsh line seemed softened, and a pleased smile played about her lips.  Her dress was one of those simple, fresh, clean muslin gowns, with knots of ribbon about it, which make a plain woman almost pretty, and a pretty woman bewitching.  Her dark hair looked less prim and neat than usual.  She pretended not to hear me open the door; but as I stood still at the threshold gazing at her, she lifted up her head, with a very pleasant smile.