There was a long pause before he said—
“Madam, I will do as you ask me. I will go to Mary and endeavour to point out to her that it is her duty to marry Colonel Gwyn.”
“I knew you would grant my request, my dear, dear friend,” cried the mother, catching his hand and pressing it. “But I would ask of you not to put the proposal to her quite in that way. To suggest that a girl with a heart should marry a particular man because her duty lies in that direction would be foolishness itself. Duty? The word is abhorrent to the ear of a young woman whose heart is ripe for love.”
“You are a woman.”
“I am one indeed; I know what are a woman's thoughts—her longings—her hopes—and alas! her self-deceptions. A woman's heart—ah, Dr. Goldsmith, you once put into a few lines the whole tragedy of a woman's life. What experience was it urged you to write those lines?—
'When lovely woman stoops to folly.
And finds too late. . .'
To think that one day, perhaps a child of mine should sing that song of poor Olivia!” He did not tell her that Mary had already quoted the lines in his hearing. He bowed his head, saying—
“I will go to her.”
“You will be saving her—ah, sir, will you not be saving yourself,” cried Mrs. Horneck.