In addition to the personal motive to conceal the fact of his oath, he had even a stronger one.  The revelation of his pledge would be proof positive of his mother’s disloyalty, and might jeopardize the property on which she and his sisters depended for support.  Moreover, while he bitterly resented Mrs. Merwyn’s course towards him he felt that honor and family loyalty required that he should never speak a word to her discredit.  The reflection implied in his final words to Marian had been wrung from him in the agony of a wounded spirit, and he now regretted them.  Henceforth he would hide the fetters which in restraining him from taking the part in the war now prompted by his feelings also kept him from the side of the girl who had won the entire allegiance of his awakened heart.  He did not know how to approach her, and feared lest a false step should render the gulf between them impassable.  He saw that her pride, while of a different character, was greater than his own had ever been, and that the consideration of his birth and wealth, which he had once dreamed must outweigh all things else, would not influence her in the slightest degree.  Men whom she regarded as his equals in these respects were not only at her feet but also facing the enemy as her loyal knights.  How pitiable a figure in her eyes he must ever make compared with them!

But there is no gravitation like that of the heart.  He felt that he must see her again, and was ready to sue for even the privilege of being tolerated in her drawing-room on terms little better than those formerly accorded him.

When he arrived in New York he had hesitated as to his course.  His first impulse had been to adopt a life of severe and inexpensive simplicity.  But he soon came to look upon this plan as an affectation.  There was his city home, and he had a perfect right to occupy it, and abundant means to maintain it.  After seeing Marian’s resolute, earnest face as she passed in the street unconscious of his scrutiny, and after having learned more about her father from his legal adviser, the impression grew upon him that he had lost his chance, and he was inclined to take refuge in a cold, proud reticence and a line of conduct that would cause no surmises and questionings on the part of the world.  He would take his natural position, and live in such a way as to render curiosity impertinent.

He had inherited too much of his father’s temperament to sit down in morbid brooding, and even were he disposed toward such weakness he felt that his words to Marian required that he should do all that he was now free to perform in the advancement of the cause to which she was devoted.  She might look with something like contempt on a phase of loyalty which gave only money when others were giving themselves, but it was the best he could do.  Whether she would ever recognize the truth or not, his own self-respect required that he should keep his word and try to look at things from her point of view, and, as far as possible, act accordingly.  For a time he was fully occupied with Mr. Bodoin in obtaining a fuller knowledge of his property and the nature of its investment.  Having learned more definitely about his resources he next followed the impulse to aid the cause for which he could not fight.