Suppose I might ask
_you_, Mr. Lawson," ventured Louise, persistent in getting a
favorable reply.
The young barrister smiled, and that smile was a conquest in itself.
It had powers to enable a mild and _spirituelle_ maiden to form
a resolve that was as unyielding as the marble hearthstone beside
her, while on the other hand it exercised a spirit in the
calculating matron that no human influence could brook.
Mr. Lawson had little thought of the agencies at work in those two
beings of widely different natures, and of which time alone will
interpret the result.
Marguerite Verne was sweetly irresistible. Her dress was simple--a
sweet simplicity in every look, motion and gesture. The pure white
draperies gave to the _spirituelle_ face the radiance of a
Madonna, and placed the maiden in striking contrast to the sparkling
bright and witty Louise--a striking and high-spirited brunette, with
a mind of no common order.
As Mr. Lawson sat in the Verne drawing-room with the being that he
idolized so near him, a deadly struggle was going on within. What a
conflict--what doubt, what irresolution!
It was worse than ever to give up all earthly hope, all earthly
happiness.
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