All went off very well, only that Mr. Dobson, in his absent-mindedness, said in the ceremony, "That which God hath put asunder, let no man join together," which methought was an ill omen. But, indeed, it was but an ill-omened affair from first to last. Betty looked very handsome I must say, and so did her bridegroom. Rosamond was glum and Margaret ill at case, while Andrew was cold, black, and stiff as one of the stone pillars out on the moor. My aunt, on the contrary, was as easy and as much pleased as if everything had come about in the best manner possible. But for her and for my lord, who exerted himself in the most amiable way, it would have been a sour wedding-party.
The next day Andrew again came to see my mother, and to beg a renewal of the engagement. He had talked with Mr. Lovel, now that they were upon more friendly terms, and Mr. Level had quite exculpated me from any knowledge of or part in his affairs and Betty's, saying with his easy laugh that he had only confirmed Betty's words because he would not see the lady he loved put down. Andrew was most earnest with my mother to overlook his past conduct, which he now confessed to be faulty, and to let him begin again.
"No, my fair son," said maman; "it would not be best. I can never forget what we owe you and yours; but my gratitude must be shown in some other way than by giving you my child under present circumstances. She is not to be thrown away and picked up again like a toy, to be cast down again the moment you see or fancy a flaw in her. You say this is your last voyage. When you return, if Vevette is still free and you choose to make your addresses to her, well and good, but for the present matters must remain as they are."
Then Andrew begged my lord's intercession, but my lord, when he heard the story, declared my mother was right, and that he would do the same in her place.
"What! Would you see the lady you loved so accused, and never so much as take her part—never say a word for her? I vow and declare, I like Lovel's way the better of the two. No, no, wait, and learn the worth of a fine young lady."
Then Andrew watched and met me on my way home from the school, and pleaded his own cause. But maman had laid her commands upon me, and I was bound to obey them. I did not deny that I loved him, and he would have drawn from me a promise not to marry any one else.
"I cannot give such a promise," said I. "It would be the same as an engagement, which my mother has forbidden; but I am quite sure I shall never wish to wed any one."
"So you say now; but how will it be when you are among the gallants of Stanton Court?" said Andrew. "Confess, now; has not the prospect of shining there some share in your decision?"
"Why, there it is again!" I returned. "You beg my pardon for one false suspicion, and the very next moment you begin on another. You cannot trust me, and how should I ever trust you? If we were to be married before you go away, you would always be wondering whether I were not somehow wronging you. No, no, Andrew. Let things be as they are at present. It is the best way, though it is hard."
And with that I fell to weeping, and he to try to comfort me alternately with accusing himself of all the meanness in the world, and with having thrown away his happiness and mine; so that at the last I was fain to turn comforter myself. At last we agreed to abide by my mother's decision. We exchanged gifts: Andrew gave me his seal ring which he had had cut at Jerusalem with the Hebrew word Mitspah—