Mr. Singleton was wise enough to remain satisfied with having expressed
his wishes to Marion. He said nothing to Earle, having a general
conviction that "in vain is the snare spread in sight of any bird," and
a knowledge of this particular bird which warned him to be cautious.
But the idea which had occurred to him seemed so likely to produce the
desired result, that he was greatly encouraged by it, and his manner to
his nephew was so different from what Mrs. Singleton had anticipated,
that she said to herself with much chagrin that Tom was right after
all, and she had gained nothing by the disclosure she had brought about.
Earle himself was pleased that his uncle showed no coldness of feeling
toward him. He had fully expected this; and, while the anticipation had
not troubled him in any serious manner, he was relieved to find that he
was to be spared that sense of alienation which is always a trial to a
person of sensitive feelings.
What he would have thought had his uncle at this time frankly avowed to
him the plan he had conceived, it is not difficult to imagine. What he
would have done is no less easy to conjecture. But, left in ignorance,
and exposed to an association which would have had attractions for
any one, he unconsciously drifted toward a position destined to lead
to serious results. For while Marion repelled she also attracted him,
through the interest he felt in a character so strongly marked for
good or for evil, and by the very frankness with which she displayed
traits and expressed sentiments with which he had little sympathy. "It
is a fine character warped and distorted," he said to himself. "Good
influences might do much with it. What a pity if she drifts deeper
into the worldliness that now attracts her so greatly! For there is
nothing frivolous about her, and she will find in the end that none but
frivolous people can be contented with the things for which she longs."
Now, there are a few people who, brought into contact with a character
of which they think in this manner, do not feel inclined to exert the
influence that they believe would be beneficial. And how much more
when the person on whom it is to be exerted is a young, a beautiful
and a clever woman! Whether he approved of her or not, Earle could not
fail to find Marion a stimulating and agreeable companion. The absence
of effort to attract--for she was far too proud to make this--lulled
to rest any fear of the result of such an association to himself;
and their morning conversation in the garden was the beginning of an
intercourse which grew daily more pleasant on both sides.
Mr. Singleton had been the first to see the probable end, but it was
not long before others foresaw it also. "I told you that girl would
betray us," said Mrs. Singleton to her husband. "She means to marry
Brian Earle and take our place. That is clear."
"But there may be two words to that," said the gentleman addressed.
"Brian may not intend to marry _her_. He was talking of his plans to me
while we were smoking last night, and there was not a word of marrying
in them."
"That much for his plans!" said Mrs. Singleton, with a slight,
contemptuous gesture. "They will soon be whatever Marion Lynde chooses.
When a woman like her makes up her mind to marry a man, she will
succeed. You may be sure of that."
"Rather a bad lookout for men, in such a case," returned Mr. Singleton.
"Only if the power is limited to women like Miss Lynde, one might bear
it with philosophy."
His wife gave him a look compounded of scorn and irritation. "There
is not much doubt what you would do in Brian Earle's place. That girl
seems to turn the head of every man she comes in contact with. I am
sure I wish I had never heard of her!"
"I fancy Rathborne wishes the same thing," observed Mr. Singleton. "I
never saw a man so changed as he is of late; I met him yesterday, and I
was struck by his moody looks."
Mrs. Singleton shrugged her shoulders. "I have no compassion to spare
for him. A man who has been such a fool as he has, deserves to suffer.
But we have done nothing to deserve to be supplanted in this way."
"Well," said the more reasonable husband, "it is hardly just to talk
of being 'supplanted.' The old fellow has always been very frank with
me, and insisted there should be no room for misconception. We have an
agreeable home without any expense to ourselves, but he has always
told me that he did not bind himself to leave me anything at all."
"Of course he would not bind himself; but if Brian refuses to be his
heir--and that is what his conduct heretofore amounts to,--whose chance
should be better than yours?"
"Really it is hard to say. Who can account for the whims of rich old
men? He may cut us all off, and leave his fortune to Miss Lynde."
"If I thought so," said Mrs. Singleton, fiercely, "I would murder her--"
"Come, Anna, that is beyond a joke!"
"Or myself, for having brought her to his notice."
"Defer both murders until you find out whether there is any need for
them," said her provoking husband. And then he beat a hasty retreat.
But even he, now that his eyes were opened, began to perceive the
extreme probability of all that his wife suggested. There was no doubt
of the fact that Marion and Earle were constantly together, that they
seemed to find much gratification in each other's society, and that Mr.
Singleton (this was patent to the most careless observation) looked on
approvingly at their growing intimacy. "The old fellow wants to see
the thing brought about," said Tom Singleton to himself. "He thinks it
would tie Brian down, and that a wife with such ideas would soon cure
him of his contempt for riches. Well, he's right enough; and since it
is most likely to come about, Anna and I may make up our minds that our
day is nearly over. We shall soon have to step down to make room for
Mrs. Brian Earle."
The young lady designated in advance by this title was herself
entirely of his opinion. At this time a rosy vista opened before her.
She felt that all which she most desired was within her grasp. And yet
not exactly in the manner she had anticipated. For, much as she had
always longed for the power which wealth gives, it had not been her
dream to obtain wealth by marriage. That seemed to her a means too
commonplace, and also too degrading. It was to be won through her own
effort, her own cleverness, in some manner as vaguely outlined as a
fairy-tale. But she was too shrewd not to perceive, after a very brief
acquaintance with life, that for a young girl, without some special and
brilliant talent, to hope to _make_ a fortune was as reasonable as if
she had thought of building a tower with her own hands. She realized,
then, that it was a wonderful prospect which opened before her, as if
by the stroke of an enchantress' wand, in the fancy of Mr. Singleton
for herself, and in the fact that Earle excited her regard in a degree
she had hardly imagined possible. Once, with mocking cynicism, she had
asked of Helen, "Do you think such good fortune ever befalls one, as
that the man one could love is also the man it is expedient for one
to marry?" And now that good fortune, so utterly disbelieved in, had
befallen herself!
For the very things in which Earle was least like herself attracted her
most. He was an embodiment of ideas which, abstractly, were too exalted
for her to reach. His faith, his unworldliness, his devotion to noble
ends,--all touched the higher side of her own nature, like strains of
heroic poetry. Under his immediate influence, she began to change in
a manner as strange as it was significant. Keen eyes noted this, and
Mrs. Singleton said to herself that the girl was capable of playing
any part, even of pretending to be quixotic and unworldly. But in this
she did her injustice. With all its great faults, Marion's character
possessed the saving salt of sincerity, and she was absolutely
incapable of playing a part for any purpose whatever. The change in
her just now was real; there only remained a question whether or not
it were deep,--whether human love alone were great enough to work the
miracle of regenerating a nature into which worldliness had struck such
strong roots.
The test was not long delayed. As the time for Earle's visit drew to
a close, he began to realize how decidedly he had suffered himself
to be drawn toward this girl, whom his judgment at first so greatly
disapproved, and whom it could not even yet altogether approve;
although he was not blind to the change in her wrought by his
influence,--a change which unconsciously flattered him, as any proof
of power flatters this poor human nature of ours. He found, somewhat
to his dismay, that he was more attached to her than he had been aware
of, but he had no intention of declaring his feeling. Judgment was
still too much arrayed against it. And this being so, he resisted the
temptation to prolong his visit, and adhered to the original date set
for his departure. Now, since this departure was not only to be from
Scarborough, but from America, Mr. Singleton was very anxious that it
should be prevented, and he watched with growing anxiety the intimacy
with Marion, from which he hoped so much.
"My dear," he said to her one day when they were alone together, and
she had been singing for him, "I wish you would exert your influence
with Brian to keep him from going abroad. It would be much better that
he should remain here."
"There can be no doubt of that," she replied. "But you mistake in
thinking that I have any influence with him. If I had, I would use it
as you desire."
"I am afraid," he observed, "that you underrate your influence. I think
you have more than you suppose."
"No," she said. "I have always been accustomed to influencing those
around me, and therefore I know very well when I fail to do so. I fail
with Mr. Earle. He has no respect for my opinion, as indeed"--with
unwonted humility--"why should he have?"
The man of the world uttered a contemptuous laugh. "Do you really, with
all your cleverness, know so little of men as to fancy that respect for
a woman's opinion is a necessary part of her influence?" he asked.
"With most men I suppose it is not," she answered; "but with Mr. Earle
it is. I am sure of that, and also sure that I should not care to
influence a man who had no respect for my opinion."
"_That_ opinion is not worthy of your good sense," said Mr. Singleton.
"It does not matter at all _how_ one influences people, so that one
actually does manage to influence them. The important point is to
succeed."
"Have you found it an easy thing to succeed with Mr. Earle?" asked
Marion, a little maliciously.
"Very far from it," replied Mr. Singleton. "There is only one way to
influence him, and that is through his affections. For one to whom he
is attached, he will do much."
The last words were so significant that Marion colored and said no
more. But she determined that she would test whether or not they were
true, since she had by this time little doubt of Earle's sentiments
toward her.
She had not long to wait for an opportunity. The next morning Earle
asked if she would not go with him to complete a sketch that he was
making of a bit of woodland scenery near the house. "A morning's
work will finish it," he said. "And since I shall not have many more
mornings, if you care to come, I shall be very glad."
"You know I always like to come," she answered. "It is interesting to
me to watch your work. I feel as if I were witnessing the process of
creation."
"You are witnessing _a_ process of creation," he said. "Art is a ray
of the divine genius which created nature, and, in its degree, it is
creative also. That is the secret of its great fascination."
"It certainly seems to possess a great fascination for you," she said,
as he slung his color-box over his shoulder and they set forth.
"Do you wonder at it?" he asked, with a quick glance.
"No; I do not wonder at the fascination," she replied. "I only wonder
that you think it right to sacrifice everything else to it."
"What do I sacrifice to it?" he asked. "A little money for which I have
no use. Is not that all?"
She shook her head. "By no means all. You sacrifice the dearest wish
of your uncle, who is devoted to you--the power of giving him great
pleasure, and the power also of doing much good with the money you
despise. Have you ever thought of that?"
"Yes," he answered, "I have thought of it all. I have seriously asked
myself if there is any duty demanding that I should comply with his
wishes, and I have decided that there is none. He is certainly attached
to me, but I think that his attachment rests very much on the fact that
he can not control me as he is accustomed to control most people. There
is no real congeniality of sentiment between us. He is a man of the
world; I am a man to whom the world counts very little. I can not feign
interest in the things which interest him, and he scorns all that most
deeply interests me. Under these circumstances, what pleasure to either
of us would be gained by closer association? And you know it is out of
my power to do him any real service."
"I am not sure of that," said Marion. "I think you scarcely appreciate
either his strong attachment to you or his strong desire that you
should remain with him."
"Has he been asking you to be his advocate?" said Earle, with a smile.
"It sounds very much as if he had."
"He has been talking to me of the matter," she answered. "You know it
is very near his heart, and he speaks to me more freely than to you;
for, naturally, he is wounded by your refusal, and is too proud to
acknowledge to you how much he cares."
"And he thinks, no doubt, that what you say will have a weight which
his words lack."
"There is no reason why he should think so," said Marion, rather
proudly.
They had by this time reached the place of their destination; and,
as he put down the portable easel which he carried, she turned away,
saying to herself that it was indeed true--there was no reason why
any one should think that her words had the least weight with this
immovable man. Some hot tears of mortification gathered in her eyes.
She had hoped for a different result, and the disappointment, from the
proof of her own lack of power, was greater than she had anticipated.
She bent down to gather some ferns on the bank of a little stream which
flowed through the glen, and when she rose Earle was standing beside
her.
"I fear that perhaps you misunderstood my last words," he said, with
grave gentleness. "I did not mean to imply that my uncle was mistaken
in thinking that what you say would have great weight with me. He is
too shrewd not to be sure of that. I only gave him credit for choosing
his advocate well. For you must know that what you wish has great
influence with me."
"Why should I know it?" said Marion, in a low tone.
"Because," he answered, "you must know that I love you."