“He regards this as my flaw, my weakness, wherein I differ from him and his kind,” she thought.  “I can’t help it.  Circumstances have rendered it impossible for me to feel toward Mr. Merwyn as toward other men.  I have thought the matter out and have taken my stand.  If he wishes more than I now give he must come up to my ground, for I shall not go down to his.”

She misunderstood her father.  That sagacious gentleman said nothing, and quietly awaited developments.

It was a glad day for Arthur Strahan when, wrapped and muffled beyond all danger, he was driven, in a close carriage, to make an afternoon visit to Marian.  She greeted him with a kindness that warmed his very soul, and even inspired hopes which he had, as yet, scarcely dared to entertain.  Time sped by with all the old easy interchange of half-earnest nonsense.  A deep chord of truth and affection vibrated through even jest and merry repartee.  Yet, so profound are woman’s intuitions in respect to some things, that, now she was face to face with him again, she feared, before an hour passed, that he could never be more to her than when she had given him loyal friendship in the vine-covered cottage in the country.

“By the way,” he remarked, abruptly, “I suppose you never punished Merwyn as we both, at one time, felt that he deserved?  He admits that he calls upon you quite frequently, and speaks of you in terms of strongest respect.  You know I am his sincere, grateful friend henceforth.  I don’t pretend to understand him, but I trust him, and wish him well from the depths of my heart.”

“I also wish him well,” Marian remarked, quietly.

He looked at her doubtfully for a moment, then said, “Well, I suppose you have reasons for resentment, but I assure you he has changed very greatly.”

“How do you know that, when you don’t understand him?”

“I do know it,” said the young fellow, earnestly.  “Merwyn never was like other people.  He is marked by ancestry; strong-willed, reticent on one side, proud and passionate on the other.  My own mother was not more untiring and gentle with me than he, yet if I try to penetrate his reserve he becomes at once distant, and almost cold.  When I thought he was seeking to amuse himself with you I felt like strangling him; now that I know he has a sincere respect for you, if not more, I have nothing against him.  I wish he would join us in the field, and have said as much to him more than once.  He has the means to raise a regiment himself, and there are few possessing more natural ability to transform raw recruits into soldiers.”

“Why does he not join you in the field?” she asked, quickly, and there was a trace of indignation in her tones.

“I do not think he will ever speak of his reasons to any one.  At least, he will not to me.”

“Very well,” she said; and there was significance in her cold, quiet tones.

“They result from no lack of loyalty,” earnestly resumed Strahan, who felt that for some reason he was not succeeding as his friend’s advocate.  “He has generously increased my chances of promotion by giving me a large sum towards recruiting my regiment.”