Although my poor mother had yielded to my prayers, and had convinced herself that Marina was a well-conducted girl, industrious, docile, and honest, yet she could not, as she said, be persuaded that she would have to lose me; and every evening when I returned home and tried to speak to her of Marina, she would be troubled, and break off the conversation as if it annoyed her. Already, unknown to me, she had gone several times to the mother of the young girl, and said that I was too young—that I ought to think more of my studies than taking to myself a wife, of whom in the end I should tire; and poor little Marina would be sure to suffer, in the first place because she cared for me, and in the second place because, if abandoned by me, she would find it hard to get a husband. All these things were said by my poor mother for love for me and through the fear of losing me. I knew it some time after. But now let us see what were the fruits of these words of hers.
One morning—it was Sunday—I went to Marina's house feeling more light-hearted than usual. It was about one o'clock, after Mass. I went up-stairs, knocked, and Regina opened the door to me; but as I entered I heard a rustling sound, and saw Marina retiring into her little room. Her mother was more serious than usual, but seemed not to wish to show it. I perceived at once that there must be something the matter, and wished to clear it up. So I began—
I AM SENT AWAY.
"Marina—where is she? Is she not at home?"
"Yes; she is in her room."
"Does she feel ill? I hope not."
"She has nothing the matter with her, thank God; but as I have something to say to you, and as she knows what it is I want to say, she would not remain, and has retired to her room."
After this preamble, although there was nothing that I could reproach myself with, I felt quite frozen up.
"What is it then that you have to say to me?"
"Listen, and don't take it ill; in fact, I have already told you from the first that you are too young, and who knows when you will be able to marry my daughter? From now until then some time must elapse, and I have no wish that you should occupy that time sitting about on my chairs. Then, too, you may change—your companions may put you up to this; and we are poor people but honest, and I don't want my Marina to be courted by one who——"