He looked so fit and manly, so clean of heart, and so direct of purpose as he came on now in this forlorn hope that Mary Ellen felt a shiver of self-distrust.

She stepped back, calling on all the familiar spirits of the past.

Her heart stopped, resuming at double speed.

It seemed as though a thrill of tingling warmth came from somewhere in the air--this time, this day, this hour, this man, so imperative, this new land, this new world into which she had come from that of her earlier years! She was yet so young! Could there be something unknown, some sweetness yet unsounded?
Could there be that rest and content which, strive as she might, were still missing from her life?
Could there be this--and honour?
Mary Ellen fled, and in her room sat down, staring in a sudden panic.
She needed to search out a certain faded picture.

It was almost with a sob that she noted the thin shoulders, the unformed jaw, the eye betokening pride rather than vigour, the brow indicative of petulance as much as sternness.