To attempt description of Stanley's feelings would be as impossible as
tedious; yet some few words must be said. His peculiarly enthusiastic,
perhaps romantic disposition, had caused him to cling tenaciously to
the memory of Marie, even after the revelation of a secret which to
other men would have seemed to place an impassable barrier between
them. To Arthur, difficulties in pursuit of an object only rendered
its attainment the more intensely desired. Perhaps his hope rested
on the conviction not so much of his own faithful love as on the
unchangeable nature of hers. He might have doubted himself, but to
doubt her was impossible. Conscious himself that, wrong as it might
be, he could sacrifice every thing for her--country, rank, faith
itself, even the prejudice of centuries, every thing but honor--an
ideal stronger in the warrior's mind than even creed--he could not and
would not believe that her secret was to her sacred as his honor to
him, and that she could no more turn renegade from the fidelity which
that secret comprised, than he could from his honor. She had spoken
of but one relation, an aged father; and he felt in his strong
hopefulness, that it was only for that father's sake she had striven
to conquer her love, and had told him they might never wed, and that
when that link was broken he might win her yet.
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