“T—— had devoted himself to the Civil Service, and had for some years occupied a post, with a salary on which he could live very well. He had long given up the profession of a tutor, though he continued to visit our house as frequently as ever, passing all his leisure hours with us, as if he belonged to the family. My five brothers were his friends, and my mother was so fond of him that she often called him ‘her dear sixth son.’ He was at every party in our house, and went with us wherever we accepted an invitation; always accompanying us to theatres, in our walks, and so on. What was more natural than that we should both persuade ourselves that my mother had intended us for each other, and would perhaps only stipulate for our waiting till I had attained my twentieth year, and T—— had a better appointment?
“Accordingly he proposed for my hand.
“But who can paint our grievous surprise when my mother not only entirely refused her consent, but from this moment detested T—— just as much as she had before liked him. There could be no other objection to T—— except that I could look forward to having a tolerable fortune, while T—— had at present nothing but his modest salary. If my mother could have imagined what was one day to become of my fortune, how very different my fate would be from what she had sketched out for me in her mind, what deep sorrow and endless grief might she not have spared me!
“After T——’s proposal, my mother wished to get me married as quickly as possible. I declared resolutely that I would become T——’s wife, or remain unmarried. T—— was, of course, forbidden to come to our house, and as my mother knew how obstinately I adhered to my resolutions when I was in earnest about a matter, she took me to a priest, who was enjoined to explain to me the duty of children toward their parents, and particularly the obedience the latter are authorized to exact. They wanted to bind me by a solemn oath, sworn on the crucifix, that I would not see T—— secretly, nor correspond with him. I refused to take the oath, but gave the required promise, stipulating, however, that I should be allowed to inform T—— of every thing. My mother at last made this concession, and I wrote a long letter to T——, acquainting him with every thing, and begging him not to believe any thing he heard concerning me from other people. I added that it was out of my power either to see him or to write to him again, but that if another suitor presented himself and was accepted by my mother, I would at once inform T—— of the circumstance.
“T——’s reply was short, and full of bitter sorrow. He seemed to understand that, under the circumstances, there was no hope for us, and that nothing remained but to obey my mother’s commands. He declared positively, however, that he would never marry.
“And thus our correspondence closed. Three long, sorrowful years passed away without my seeing him, and without any change in my feelings or position.
“Walking one day with a friend of my mother’s, I met T—— by chance. We both stopped involuntarily, but for a long time neither he nor I could utter a word. At last he conquered his emotion, and asked after my health. I was too deeply moved to be able to reply. My knees trembled, and I felt ready to sink into the earth. I seized my companion by the arm and drew her away with me, and rushed home, scarcely conscious of what I was doing. Two days afterward I was stretched on my couch in a burning fever.
“The physician who was called in seemed to have a suspicion of the cause of my illness, and declared to my mother, as I afterward heard, that the source of evil was mental, not bodily; that medicines would be of little avail in my case, and that every effort must be directed.... But my mother persisted in following her own course, and told the physician she could not alter any thing about me.”
The patient’s life hung for a long time in the balance, and in her fevered state of mind she wished ardently for death. When by chance she heard from an indiscreetly-communicative nurse that her dissolution was daily expected, this intelligence produced such a quieting effect that she sank into a deep slumber, and the crisis of her disease was happily passed.
Ida’s father had left a considerable fortune, and there was no lack of suitors for her hand. She refused every offer, however, and thereby increased the discomfort of her position at home, for her mother insisted more and more strongly upon Ida’s making her choice. These domestic broils at length broke the girl’s spirit, and any fate seemed to her preferable to the continuance of such a state of things. She accordingly declared herself ready to accept the next proposal that should be made, provided the suitor was of advanced age. She wished to convince T—— that moral coercion, and not her own inclination, had impelled her to take this course.