“You know what I mean. I told him I could not marry without your consent.”
“And suppose I should withhold my consent?”
“I should be very unhappy.”
“But I don't really see what my consent matters. It's for you to decide. You're of full age. I have no right to forbid you. Now, then, what are you going to do?”
“I said I would be his wife, unless you wished otherwise.”
“Well, I suppose you must keep your word. The poor fellow is waiting on the anxious seat to learn his fate. I really think, instead of tarrying here, you ought to seek him out, and put an end to his suspense.”
She hugged me and kissed me, and said some very jubilant and some very complimentary things; and then she began to cry, and then she laughed through her tears; and at last she went off to find her lover, and to convey to him the joyful tidings.
They were married on the 15th day of December, and that same afternoon they set sail for Havre aboard the steamship La Touraine, to pass six months abroad. Anxiously did Josephine and I count the days that must elapse before the post would bring us their first letter; and little did we dream what ominous news that letter would contain.