He had known that if he should but see her once more, his already toppling will would lose its equipoise, and he would be led to attempt the impossible and invite destruction.  At first this scheme appeared to me in its true light, but Mary’s subtle feminine logic made it seem such plain and easy sailing that I soon began to draw enthusiasm from her exhaustless store, and our combined attack upon Brandon eventually routed every vestige of caution and common sense that even he had left.

Siren logic has always been irresistible and will continue so, no doubt, despite experience.

I cannot define what it was about Mary that made her little speeches, half argumentative, all-pleading, so wonderfully persuasive.  Her facts were mere fancies, and her logic was not even good sophistry.  As to real argument and reasoning, there was nothing of either in them.  It must have been her native strength of character and intensely vigorous personality; some unknown force of nature, operating through her occultly, that turned the channels of other persons’ thoughts and filled them with her own will.  There was magic in her power, I am certain, but unconscious magic to Mary, I am equally sure.  She never would have used it knowingly.

There was still another obstacle to which Mary administered her favorite remedy, the Gordian knot treatment.  Brandon said:  “It cannot be; you are not my wife, and we dare not trust a priest here to unite us.”

“No,” replied Mary, with hanging head, “but we can—­can find one over there.”

“I do not know how that will be; we shall probably not find one; at least, I fear; I do not know.”

After a little hesitation she answered:  “I will go with you anyway—­and—­and risk it.  I hope we may find a priest,” and she flushed scarlet from her throat to her hair.

Brandon kissed her and said:  “You shall go, my brave girl.  You make me blush for my faint-heartedness and prudence.  I will make you my wife in some way as sure as there is a God.”

Soon after this Brandon forced himself to insist on her departure, and I went with her, full of hope and completely blinded to the dangers of our cherished scheme.  I think Brandon never really lost sight of the danger, and almost infinite proportion of chance against this wild, reckless venture, but was daring enough to attempt it even in the face of such clearly seen and deadly consequences.

What seems to be bravery, as in Mary’s case, for example, is often but a lack of perception of the real danger.  True bravery is that which dares a danger fully seeing it.  A coward may face an unseen danger, and his act may shine with the luster of genuine heroism.  Mary was brave, but it was the feminine bravery that did not see.  Show her a danger and she was womanly enough—­that is, if you could make her see it.  Her wilfulness sometimes extended to her mental vision and she would not see.  In common with many others, she needed mental spectacles at times.