beginning that this was her only hope, and now the sensation developed and
defined itself into a thought and she decided that she would not yield,
but would continue to affirm her belief that he must acknowledge his sin,
and then come and ask her to marry him. Above all things, Esther desired
to see William repentant. Her natural piety, filling as it did her entire
life, unconsciously made her deem repentance an essential condition of
their happiness. How could they be happy if he were not a God-fearing man?
This question presented itself constantly, and she was suddenly convinced
that she could not marry him until he had asked forgiveness of the Lord.
Then they would be joined together, and would love each other faithfully
unto death.

But in conflict with her prejudices, her natural love of the man was as
the sun shining above a fog-laden valley; rays of passion pierced her
stubborn nature, dissolving it, and unconsciously her eyes sought
William's, and unconsciously her steps strayed from the kitchen when her
ears told her he was in the passage. But when her love went out freely to
William, when she longed to throw herself in his arms, saying, "Yes, I
love you; make me your wife," she noticed, or thought she noticed, that he
avoided her eyes, and she felt that thoughts of which she knew nothing had
obtained a footing in his mind, and she was full of foreboding.

Her heart being intent on him, she was aware of much that escaped the
ordinary eye, and she was the first to notice when the drawing-room bell
rang, and Mr. Leopold rose, that William would say, "My legs are the
youngest, don't you stir."

No one else, not even Sarah, thought William intended more than to keep in
Mr. Leopold's good graces, but Esther, although unable to guess the truth,
heard the still tinkling bell ringing the knell of her hopes. She noted,