"He said one thing more."
"And what was that?"
"He said;—but he had no right to say it."
"What was it, dear?"
"That he knew I loved him, and that therefore— But, mamma, do not think of that. I will never be his wife,—never, in opposition to his family."
"But he did not take your answer?"
"He must take it, mamma. He shall take it. If he can be stubborn, so can I. If he knows how to think of me more than himself, I can think of him and Edith more than of myself. That is not quite all, mamma. Then he wrote to me. There is his letter."
Mrs. Crawley read the letter. "I suppose you answered it?"
"Yes, I answered it. It was very bad, my letter. I should think after that he will never want to have anything more to say to me. I tried for two days, but I could not write a nice letter."
"But what did you say?"