It was doubtless true that Frank himself could not be the first to draw back.  What would people say of him?  She could now calmly ask herself the question that had so angered her, when asked by Lady Arabella.  If he could not do it, and if, nevertheless, it behoved them to break off this match, by whom was it to be done if not by her?  Was not Lady Arabella right throughout, right in her conclusions, though so foully wrong in her manner of drawing them?

And then she did think for one moment of herself.  ’You who have nothing to give in return!’ Such had been Lady Arabella’s main accusation against her.  Was it in fact true that she had nothing to give?  Her maiden love, her feminine pride, her very life, and spirit, and being—­were these things nothing?  Were they to be weighed against pounds sterling per annum? and, when so weighed, were they ever to kick the beam like feathers?  All these things had been nothing to her when, without reflection, governed wholly by the impulse of the moment, she had first allowed his daring hand to lie for an instant in her own.  She had thought nothing of these things when that other suitor came, richer far than Frank, to love whom it was impossible to her as it was not to love him.

Her love had been pure from all such thoughts; she was conscious that it ever would be pure from them.  Lady Arabella was unable to comprehend this, and, therefore, was Lady Arabella so utterly distasteful to her.

Frank had once held her close to his warm breast; and her very soul had thrilled with joy to feel that he so loved her,—­with a joy which she hardly dared to acknowledge.  At that moment, her maidenly efforts had been made to push him off, but her heart had grown to his.  She had acknowledged him to be master of her spirit; her bosom’s lord; the man whom she had been born to worship; the human being to whom it was for her to link her destiny.  Frank’s acres had been of no account; nor had his want of acres.  God had brought them two together that they should love each other; that conviction had satisfied her, and she had made it a duty to herself that she would love him with her very soul.  And now she was called upon to wrench herself asunder from him because she had nothing to give in return!

Well, she would wrench herself asunder, as far as such wrenching might be done compatibly with her solemn promise.  It might be right that Frank should have an opportunity offered him, so that he might escape from his position without disgrace.  She would endeavour to give him this opportunity.  So, with one deep sigh, she arose, took herself pen, ink, and paper, and sat herself down again so that the wrenching might begin.

And then, for a moment, she thought of her uncle.  Why had he not spoken to her of all this?  Why had he not warned her?  He who had ever been so good to her, why had he now failed her so grievously?  She had told him everything, had had no secret from him; but he had never answered her a word.  ‘He also must have known’ she said to herself, piteously, ’he also must have known that I could give nothing in return.’  Such accusation, however, availed her not at all, so she sat down and slowly wrote her letter.