She was indeed sorely perplexed by the course matters were taking, and although she would not acknowledge it, Lucette's recital of Dauban's warning had moved her considerably.
It fitted closely with her own feelings in regard to giving herself to a man she had never seen. Her pride of place and family had alone induced her to think of accepting the husband whom her mother had chosen for her; but it was not in human nature to acquiesce without murmurs and qualms and doubts and hesitation.
Moreover, the scene in the market place on the previous day had disturbed her profoundly, despite her stout assertion that the night's reflection had restored her. Her couch had been the ground of a fierce battle between certain wild new-springing emotions and the set and sober thoughts of duty; and the fight had raged through the whole of a sleepless night.
In vain she had told herself over and over again that the stranger cavalier was nothing to her and could be nothing; that it was treachery to her dead mother even to let a thought of him force itself upon her; that it was unworthy, unmaidenly, and cowardly to be moved by the remembrance that a man had looked kindly into her eyes and that she had faltered before his glance; and this at the very moment when he to whom she was betrothed was coming to her.
She upbraided herself bitterly for her weakness, and rising from her couch had passed an hour or more on her knees in fervent prayer for strength to overcome the temptation which she found so alluring, and for power to subdue these new feelings as subtly sweet as they were strange and exciting.
Her heart would not be denied, however, and despite her most resolute efforts the recollection of the strong handsome face, with the clear steadfast blue eyes would
