George had forgotten her,
and she had wept sorely over his want of constancy. But though
telling herself that this certainly was so, she had declared to
herself that she would never be untrue till her want of truth had
been put beyond the reach of doubt. Who does not know how hope
remains, when reason has declared that there is no longer ground for
hoping?
Such had been the state of her mind hitherto; but what would be the
good of entertaining hope, even if there were ground for hoping,
when, as was so evident, her uncle would never permit George and her
to be man and wife? And did she not owe everything to her uncle?
And was it not the duty of a girl to obey her guardian? Would not
all the world be against her if she refused this man? Her mind was
tormented by a thousand doubts, when her uncle said another word to
her, just as they were entering the village.
'You will try and think better of it;--will you not, my dear?' She
was silent. 'Come, Marie, you can say that you will try. Will you
not try?'
'Yes, uncle,--I will try.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84