ly on the
Wednesday morning she had made up her mind; and at noon on that day
her letter was written. She had spoken to Hetta about the man, and she
had seen that Hetta had disliked him. She was not disposed to be much
guided by Hetta's opinion. In regard to her daughter she was always
influenced by a vague idea that Hetta was an unnecessary trouble.
There was an excellent match ready for her if she would only accept
it. There was no reason why Hetta should continue to add herself to
the family burden. She never said this even to herself,--but she felt
it, and was not therefore inclined to consult Hetta's comfort on this
occasion. But nevertheless, what her daughter said had its effect. She
had encountered the troubles of one marriage, and they had been very
bad. She did not look upon that marriage as a mistake,--having even up
to this day a consciousness that it had been the business of her life,
as a portionless girl, to obtain maintenance and position at the
expense of suffering and servility. But that had been done. The
maintenance was, indeed, again doubtful, because of her son's vices;
but it might so probably be again secured,--by means of her son's
beauty! Hetta had said that Mr Broune liked his own way. Had not she
herself found that all men liked their own way? And she liked her own
way. She liked the comfort of a home to herself. Personally she did
not want the companionship of a husband. And what scenes would there
be between Felix and the man! And added to all this there was
something within her, almost amounting to conscience, which told her
that it was not right that she should burden any one with the
responsibility and inevitable troubles of such a son as her son Felix.
What would she do were her husband to command her to separate herself
from her son? In such circumstances she would certainly separate
herself from her husband. Having considered these things deeply, she
wrote as follows to Mr Broune:--

DEAREST FRIEND,

I need not tell you that I have thought much of your generous and
affectionate offer. How could I refuse such a prospect as you offer
me without much thought? I regard your career as the most noble
which a man's ambition can achieve. And in that career no one is
your superior. I cannot but be proud that such a one as you should
have asked me to be his wife. But, my friend, life is subject to
wounds which are incurable, and my life has been so wounded. I have