"No, Frank; you wrong me. I have no feelings against her—none, indeed; none but this: that she is not fit to be your wife."
"I think her fit."
"Ah, yes; but how fit? Think of your position, Frank, and what means you have of keeping her. Think what you are. Your father's only son; the heir to Greshamsbury. If Greshamsbury be ever again more than a name, it is you that must redeem it. Of all men living you are the least able to marry a girl like Mary Thorne."
"Mother, I will not sell myself for what you call my position."
"Who asks you? I do not ask you; nobody asks you. I do not want you to marry any one. I did think once—but let that pass. You are now twenty-three. In ten years' time you will still be a young man. I only ask you to wait. If you marry now, that is, marry such a girl as Mary Thorne—"
"Such a girl! Where shall I find such another?"
"I mean as regards money, Frank; you know I mean that; how are you to live? Where are you to go? And then, her birth. Oh, Frank, Frank!"
"Birth! I hate such pretence. What was—but I won't talk about it. Mother, I tell you my word is pledged, and on no account will I be induced to break it."
"Ah, that's just it; that's just the point. Now, Frank, listen to me. Pray listen to me patiently for one minute. I do not ask much of you."
Frank promised that he would listen patiently; but he looked anything but patient as he said so.