"Has he said so?"
"He has said nothing about it."
"Thank Heaven for that! He does not intend to rob me of my child."
"But, mamma, I am to be his wife."
"No, no, no!"
"It is that that I want to make you understand. You know nothing of his character;—nothing."
"I do know that he told a base falsehood."
"Nothing of the kind! I will not admit it. It is of no use going into that again, but there was nothing base about it. He has got an appointment in the United States, and is going out to do the work. He has not asked me to go with him. The two things would probably not be compatible." Here Mrs. Mountjoy rose from the sofa and embraced her child, as though liberated from her deepest grief. "But, mamma, you must remember this:—that I have given him my word, and will never be induced to abandon it." Here her mother threw up her hands and again began to weep. "Either to-day or to-morrow, or ten years hence,—if he will wait as long, I will,—we shall be married. As far as I can see we need not wait ten years, or perhaps more than one or two. My money will suffice for us."
"He proposes to live upon you?"
"He proposes nothing of the kind. He is going to America because he will not propose it. Nor am I proposing it,—just at present."