“I suppose it would not have been easy.”
“Your father was situated somewhat the same. He had been dependent upon Uncle Jabez’s bounty ever since the death of his parents, and, although he was as indignant as I, at first, over this will, and vowed he would not submit to any such arbitrary conditions, yet, after years of luxurious living, when he began to realize what it would be to be deprived of it, he came to me and asked if I was willing to revoke my early decision, and become his wife.”
“But, mother, was there no one else in all the world whom you would have preferred to marry?—no one whom you had met and loved? Was there no romance in either of your lives that would conflict with such a proceeding?” Everet anxiously asked.
“No, there was no one whom I loved better—no one whom I would have been as willing, even, to marry.”
“That seems very strange! How old were you at that time!”
“Twenty-four—it was my last year of grace,” replied Mrs. Mapleson, with a little laugh.
“Have you never met any one since who has made you regret the step?”
“No, Everet; and if I had, I had too much respect for myself and for your father to ever have yielded to any such sentiment. More than that, I have become deeply attached to my husband, and our life, as you well know, has been a remarkably peaceful and uncheckered one.”
“And father——” the young man began, and then hesitated.
“He told me frankly when he asked me to marry him, that he had no other attachment,” interposed Mrs. Mapleson; “in fact we mutually confessed that, although we did not possess any romantic love for each other, such as lovers usually entertain, we had none for any one else; that we did admire and esteem each other, and we believed that a marriage would, under the circumstances, be best for us both.”