toward me in a sort of forlorn hope very touching
to see, "can you see this young motherless girl, driven by caprice, and
acknowledging no moral restraint, enter upon the dark and crooked path
she is planning for herself, without uttering one word of warning and
appeal? Tell me, mother of children dead and buried, what excuse you
will have for your own part in this day's work, when she, with her
face marred by the sorrows which must follow this deception, comes to
you----"

"The same excuse, probably," Mary's voice broke in, chill and strained,
"which you will have when uncle inquires how you came to allow such an
act of disobedience to be perpetrated in his absence: that she could not
help herself, that Mary would gang her ain gait, and every one around
must accommodate themselves to it."

It was like a draught of icy air suddenly poured into a room heated up
to fever point. Eleanore stiffened immediately, and drawing back, pale
and composed, turned upon her cousin with the remark:

"Then nothing can move you?"

The curling of Mary's lips was her only reply.

Mr. Raymond, I do not wish to weary you with my feelings, but the first
great distrust I ever felt of my wisdom in pushing this matter so far
came with that curl of Mary's lip. More plainly than Eleanore's words it
showed me the temper with which she was entering upon this undertaking;
and, struck with momentary dismay, I advanced to speak when Mary stopped
me.

"There, now, Mamma Hubbard, don't you go and acknowledge that you
are frightened, for I won't hear it. I have promised to marry Henry
Clavering to-day, and I am going to keep my word--if I don't love him,"
she added with bitter emphasis. Then, smiling upon me in a way which
caused me to forget everything save the fact that she was going to her
bridal, she handed me her veil to fasten. As I was doing this, with very
trembling fingers, she said, looking straight at Eleanore:

"You have shown yourself more interested in my fate than I had any
reason to expect. Will you continue to display this concern all the way
to F----, or may I hope for a few moments of peace in which to dream
upon the step which, according to you, is about to hurl upon me such
dreadful consequences?"

"If I go with you to F----," Eleanore returned, "it is as a witness, no
more. My sisterly duty is done."

"Very well, then," Mary said, dimpling with sudden gayety; "I suppose
I shall have to accept the situation. Mamma Hubbard,