Chapter XVII

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."