never cared for him, she did not care for him now. She had dreaded him, winced before him, succumbed to him, and that was all. Hate him she did not quite; but he was dust and ashes to her, and even for her name’s sake she scarcely wished to marry him.
‘You ought to have been more careful if you didn’t mean to get him to make you his wife!’
‘O mother, my mother!’ cried the agonised girl, turning passionately upon her parent as if her poor heart would break. ‘How could I be expected to know? I was a child when I left this house four months ago. Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance of discovering in that way, and you did not help me!’
Her mother was subdued.
‘I thought if I spoke of his fond feelings and what they might lead to, you would dislike him and lose your chance,’ she murmured, wiping her eyes with her apron. ‘Well, we must make the best of it, I suppose. ’Tis nater, after all, and what pleases God.’
160
