"I have seen Mary, as it was certainly my duty to do. You cannot be angry with me for that."
"Who said that I was angry, mother?"
"Well, I have seen her, and I must own, that though she was not disposed to be courteous to me, personally, she said much that marked her excellent good sense. But the gist of it was this; that as she had made you a promise, nothing should turn her from that promise but your permission."
"And do you think—"
"Wait a moment, Frank, and listen to me. She confessed that this marriage was one which would necessarily bring distress on all your family; that it was one which would probably be ruinous to yourself; that it was a match which could not be approved of: she did, indeed; she confessed all that. 'I have nothing', she said—those were her own words—'I have nothing to say in favour of this engagement, except that he wishes it.' That is what she thinks of it herself. 'His wishes are not a reason; but a law,' she said—"
"And, mother, would you have me desert such a girl as that?"
"It is not deserting, Frank: it would not be deserting: you would be doing that which she herself approves of. She feels the impropriety of going on; but she cannot draw back because of her promise to you. She thinks that she cannot do it, even though she wishes it."
"Wishes it! Oh, mother!"
"I do believe she does, because she has sense to feel the truth of all that your friends say. Oh, Frank, I will go on my knees to you if you will listen to me."
"Oh, mother! mother! mother!"