those eternally lifted marble hands of the silent crusader. Had some daring maiden slapped , in her time, those solemn and courtly cheeks? Well! with that cross-handled sword on his armoured hip, he seemed able to lie quiet enough now, without any blush of tingling memory.
But what was he, Richard Storm, doing â that was the next thought that drifted by â seated here with this young girl? Vanity whispered to him that he had already made an emotional impression on her â where would that impression lead them both to, if it deepened and increased? Where did he desire it to lead them to? Hurriedly he moved out of the track of this final thought! She was a sweet child; but what was she to him? His business was with something deeper, more serious, more worthy of his age, than flirtations with little girls.
He became suddenly aware that Nelly Moreton was speaking to him.
âWhat I wanted to ask you, Mr Storm,â her voice caught in herthroat just then, with a queer little sound like the gurgle of a nightingale in late summer; but she made a gallant effort and continued firmly; âwas whether you think it right for a person to go on being engaged to someone when youâve come to the conclusion that youâre really not suited? I know you have to be good and submit to your fate when youâre married,â she went on, with another little gasp in her throat, this time more like the bursting of some dry seed-pod, âbut it doesnât seem as though being engaged were the same thing as being married â except that one ought to keep oneâs word, I suppose, else what does one give oneâs word for?â
She stopped dead at that and turned, quite unexpectedly, right full upon him, searching him with anxious candid-questioning eyes.
While she was speaking Richardâs demons had kept up such a clamour of caustic commentary that when she had finished he was glad enough to be able to smile nervously and mutter, âYou must give me time to think.â
The trusting candour of the look she had given him left his thoughts hopelessly confused.
They came fast, the impish suggestions â such as, âshe is angling for youâ; âshe is bored with her life at Littlegateâ; âshe has been driven by her father to accept that ass Canyotâ; âsheâs trying to excite your pityâ; âsheâs betraying some honest fellowâs affection to the first newcomerâ; âsheâs infatuated with the idea of oneâs literary reputationâ â and with it all his mind became so wretchedly entangled, that the long stare he proceeded to give to the crusaderâs tomb brought him nothing but the most obvious and simple answer.
âMy dear child,â he said, turning his gaze upon the grey gloves lying so quietly in her lap while with her firm sun-warmed fingers she hugged her knees, âin these things you must follow your own instinct. Certainly it would be very wrong to plunge into marriage with someone you had ceased to love. No one can bind love down, or command it to remain fixed, when it wants to fly away. Much more harm is done in this world by marrying unsuitable people than by breaking promises.
âPromises are things that oughtnât to be brought into these matters at all. Promises ought to be confined to business and war and material affairs. You have no right to promise away the freedom of your heart. Itâs like selling your soul. Your heart is not yourown to promise here or there. Your heart belongs to the Great Spirit of life which gave it you. Engagement promises are only a sort of play-acting promises. If you are religious and have taken marriage vows itâs quite a different matter. Thatâs what engagements are for â to give girls like you, whoâve seen little of the world, a chance of changing their minds.â
The obviousness and even naïveté of his eloquence, considering his own sudden
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