The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe, in Extracts from Her Diary

believed, that he knew what was best, and that his hopes and wishes ought to be my hopes and wishes too.” Her voice trembled for the first time. Her restless fingers stole their way into my lap, and held fast by one of my hands. There was another moment of silence, and then Sir Percival spoke. “May I ask,” he said, “if I have ever proved myself unworthy of the trust which it has been hitherto my greatest honour and greatest happiness to possess?” “I have found nothing in your conduct to blame,” she answered. “You have always treated me with the same delicacy and the same forbearance. You have deserved my trust, and, what is of far more importance in my estimation, you have deserved my father’s trust, out of which mine grew. You have given me no excuse, even if I had wanted to find one, for asking to be released from my pledge. What I have said so far has been spoken with the wish to acknowledge my whole obligation to you. My regard for that obligation, my regard for my father’s memory, and my regard for my own promise, all forbid me to set the example, on my side, of withdrawing from our present position. The breaking of our engagement must be entirely your wish and your act, Sir Percival⁠—not mine.” The uneasy beating of his foot suddenly stopped, and he leaned forward eagerly across the table. “My act?” he said. “What reason can there be on my side for withdrawing?”