She had sent no letter to Marchmont, she had not yet refused to become
his wife. Although she recognised the unfairness of this treatment of him
she could not compel her hand to the writing of the letter; for Marchmont
came to personify to her all that she lost, that at least she risked, if
she yielded to her new impulse. Thus the hold which her liking for him,
their old acquaintance, and all the obvious advantages gave him was
further strengthened. Leaving on one side his position and the excellence
of the match, things which now seemed to her less important, and coming
to the more intimate and personal aspect of the matter, she realised with
a pang how much Marchmont pleased her; he never offended her taste or
jarred on her feelings; she would be absolutely safe with him, he would
gratify almost every mood and satisfy almost every aspiration.
Dealing very plainly with herself, formulating the question that she
could not put to Morewood, she asked whether she would not rather go as a
wife to Marchmont than to any other man she had met, whether Quisante or
another.
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