Curiously enough this well-intended homily had the effect of arousing in Nancy an instant sense of loyalty to Allan.  She suffered little flashes of resentment at the thought that Clara Tremaine should seem to depreciate one toward whom she felt herself turning with a sudden defensive tenderness.  And this, though it was clear to the level eye of reason that Clara must have been generalising on observations made far from Edom.  But her loyal spirit was not less eager to resent an affront because it might seem to have been aimless.

And thereafter, though never ceasing to wonder, Nancy was won.  Her consent, at length, went to him in her own volume of Browning, a pink rose shut in upon “A Woman’s Last Word”—­its petals bruised against the verses: 

  “What so false as truth is,
    False to thee? 
  Where the serpent’s tooth is,
    Shun the tree.

  “Where the apple reddens,
    Never pry—­
  Lest we lose our Edens,
    Eve and I.

  “Be a god and hold me
    With a charm! 
  Be a man and fold me
    With thine arm!”

That was a moment of sweetness, of utter rest, of joyous peace—­fighting no longer.

A little while and he was before her, proud as a conquerer may be—­glad as a lover should.

“I always knew it, Nance—­you had to give in.”

Then as she drooped in his arms, a mere fragrant, pulsing, glad submission—­

“You have always pleased me, Nancy.  I know I shall never regret my choice.”

And Nancy, scarce hearing, wondered happily on his breast.

CHAPTER IV

THE WINNING OF BROWETT

A thoughtful Pagan once reported dignity to consist not in possessing honours, but in the consciousness that we deserve them.  It is a theory fit to console multitudes.  Edom’s young rector was not only consoled by it, he was stimulated.  To his ardent nature, the consciousness of deserving honour was the first vital step toward gaining it.  Those things that he believed himself to deserve he forthwith subjected to the magnetic rays of his desire:  Knowing with the inborn certainty of the successful, that they must finally yield to such silent, coercing influence and soon or late gravitate toward him in obedience to the same law that draws the apple to the earth’s lap.  In this manner had the young man won his prizes for oratory; so had he won his wife; so had he won his first pastorate; so now would he win that prize he was conscious of meriting next—­a city parish—­a rectorate in the chief seat of his church in America, where was all wealth and power as well as the great among men, to be swayed by his eloquence and brought at last to the Master’s feet.  And here, again, would his future enlarge to prospects now but mistily surmised—­prospects to be moved upon anon with triumphant tread.  Infinite aspiration opening ever beyond itself—­this was his.  Meantime, step by step, with zealous care for the accuracy of each, with eyes always ahead, leaving nothing undone—­he was forever fashioning the moulds into which the Spirit should materialise his benefits.