"You had better not ask him," said Marianne, in the same low, mysterious tone; "you can learn nothing upon that subject which it would give you pleasure to hear." Then changing her voice, she added, "But what said Edric to the news of his brother's glory?"
"I know not—I care not! Ice itself cannot be colder than Edric. When we met, and he offered his hand to greet me, his touch seemed to freeze my very veins. Cold, prudent, calculating, and cautious, he has all the vices of age without its excuses:—I hate him!"
"You do not then, I suppose, long for the moment when you are to become his bride?" asked the companion, with a sarcastic smile.
"Long for it, Marianne?" cried Rosabella, starting from her couch, and clasping her hands together with energy—"long for it! No; if all other resources fail, death shall free me before the hated moment arrives." And as she spoke, Rosabella walked up and down the room, in a state of violent agitation.
"But your uncle?" resumed Marianne.
"My uncle!" repeated Rosabella, stopping
