“Alas! you do not know what you are talking about, Mark! What a project! And your approaching marriage with India—is it possible in this connexion that you do not think of that?”
“Not think of that!” echoed Mr. Sutherland, as a strange, beautiful smile flitted over his face. “Mother, I dreaded this interview with you; but I looked forward to an explanation with my loved India as the first reward of right-doing—if what I have done is right—a foretaste of what the rewards of Heaven will be! My India! I know her generosity, her magnanimity, her high-souled enthusiasm! How many times I have experienced it! How many times, when reading with her of some high heroism of the olden time, when there were heroes, have I seen her pause, her bosom heave, her cheek flush, her eye kindle and gaze upon me, expressing unspeakable admiration of those lofty deeds! And now, when in her own life an opportunity occurs of practising those very same great virtues—when she has the power, by sacrificing wealth and luxury, to bless hundreds of her fellow-beings, and not them only, but their children and children’s children—do I not know that high-souled girl will aspire to do it! Madam, it is a majestic, a godlike power, to be able to confer the blessing of liberty and education upon hundreds of beings and their descendants to numberless generations—a power I would not now exchange for a small limited monarchy. And, oh! do I not know that my India—soul of my soul!—will think as I do—will feel as I do? Nay, do I not know that she will go beyond me? Mother, when I have doubted, or struggled against my better feelings, I have seen as in a vision, her eyes suffused with generous tears, her cheek kindle, and felt the warm pressure of her hand encouraging, inspiring me!”
“Oh, Mark! Mark! romance! nothing more. And even should India approve your project, which I think quite impossible, what is your further purpose? To leave her here, bound by an engagement, to wear out her youth in expectation of your making a fortune and coming back to claim her hand?”
“No, dearest mother, that were too hard a trial to both of us. No, I mean to take her with me to the West, to encourage and assist me while I make her as happy as I possibly can!”
Here, again, the lady’s feelings arose to so high a pitch of excitement that she had to put a violent constraint upon herself, while she answered quietly, “And how do you think Miss Sutherland will like to lay aside all the prestige of her rank, and wealth, and bridehood, and, instead of a splendid wedding, and a bridal tour, and a voyage to Europe, take an ignominious departure from her father’s house, for a life of poverty and privation in the West?”
“I told you, dearest mother, that my India was of a highly heroic nature. That does not mean wedded to ease and worldly honour; indeed, it more frequently means the loss of both.”
“And so you deliberately mean to take that girl—if she will go with you—to some miserable western village, to endure all the miseries of poverty?”
“What miseries of poverty, dearest mother? If you were a European talking of Europeans, I could understand your prudence; but you are an American matron talking to an American youth, and advising him not to marry the girl he loves if he has not a fortune to support her. It seems to me, mother, that in our country the man or woman who refuses to marry for such a reason, wants faith, love, hope, enterprise, energy, and every thing they ought to have; and under such circumstances, it seems but right, indeed, that they should stay single.”
“You do not know what you are talking about. But should India be so imprudent, do you think her father will consent to such a mad project?”
“His consent to our union was long ago obtained; and if, under present circumstances, he should withdraw it—India is of age, you know!”