“Now I shall throw you on your own resources.  I believe your woman’s tact can manage this question better than my reason; only, if you don’t love him and do not think you can, be sure to refuse him.  I have nothing against Mr. Lane, and approve of what I know about him; but I am not eager to have a rival, or to lose what I have so recently gained.  Nevertheless, I know that when the true knight comes through the wood, my sleeping beauty will have another awakening, compared with which this one will seem slight indeed.  Then, as a matter of course, I will quietly take my place as ’second fiddle’ in the harmony of your life.  But no discordant first fiddle, if you please; and love alone can attune its strings.  My time is up, and, if I don’t return early, go to bed, so that mamma may not say you are the worse for your days in town.  This visit has made me wish for many others.”

“You shall have them, for, as Shakespeare says, your wish ‘jumps’ with mine.”

CHAPTER V.

“Be hopeful, that I may hope.”

Left to herself Marian soon threw down the book she tried to read, and thought grew busy with her father’s later words.  Was there then a knight—­a man—­somewhere in the world, so unknown to her that she would pass him in the street without the slightest premonition that he was the arbiter of her destiny?  Was there some one, to whom imagination could scarcely give shadowy outline, so real and strong that he could look a new life into her soul, set all her nerves tingling, and her blood coursing in mad torrents through her veins?  Was there a stranger, whom now she would sweep with a casual glance, who still had the power to subdue her proud maidenhood, overcome the reserve which seemed to reach as high as heaven, and lay a gentle yet resistless grasp, not only on her sacred form, but on her very soul?  Even the thought made her tremble with a vague yet delicious dread.  Then she sprung to her feet and threw back her head proudly as she uttered aloud the words, “If this can ever be true, my power shall be equal to his.”

A moment later she was evoking half-exultant chords from the piano.  These soon grew low and dreamy, and the girl said softly to herself:  “I have lived more in two days than in months of the past.  Truly real life is better than a sham, shallow existence.”

The door-bell rang, and she started to her feet.  “Who can know I am in town?” she queried.

Fenton Lane entered with extended hand and the words:  “I was passing and knew I could not be mistaken in your touch.  Your presence was revealed by the music as unmistakably as if I had met you on the street.  Am I an intruder?  Please don’t order me away under an hour or two.”

“Indeed, Mr. Lane, truth compels me to say that I am here in deep retirement.  I have been contemplating a convent.”

“May I ask your motive?”