'You cannot prevent his coming,' he said, 'and it shall not be
prevented.' 'Of course, you have promised to be his wife, and it
must be.' 'Nonsense about deceiving him. He is not deceived at
all.' 'Trash--you are not fond of another man. It is all
nonsense.' 'You must do what your uncle wishes. You must, now! you
must! Of course, you will love him. Why can't you let all that
come as it does with others?' 'Letter gone;--yes indeed, and now I
must go after it.' 'Trouble!--yes! Why could you not tell me
before you sent it? Have I not always been good to you?' 'You have
not been bad; not before. You have been very good. It is this that
is bad.' 'Forget you indeed. Of course he won't. How should he?
Are you not betrothed to him? He'll forgive you fast enough, when
you just say that you did not know what you were about when you were
writing it.' Thus her uncle went on; and as the outburst of his
wrath was, as it were, chopped into little bits by his having to
continue the reading of the letter, the storm did not fall upon
Marie's head so violently as she had expected.
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