As she spoke, Edmund was observed to gaze upon her with delight, and exult in the declaration, as if it were necessary for his happiness; but when she ceased to speak, he relapsed into melancholy.
“The only way to silence such reports effectually,” said Mrs. Hanson, with a tender smile, “will be to place yourself under the protection of some worthy man, whose character you can indeed approve. I have ever objected to your marrying under age, but I have no objection at all to your gaining liberty, and relinquishing it at the same time. I hope, therefore, in another year, to see you follow the example of Ellen, provided you can choose as well as she has done.”
“It is the only thing in which I cannot obey you, my dear mother,” replied Matilda.
Hurt with the extreme paleness which overspread the countenance of their inestimable son, Mr. and Mrs. Harewood withdrew to the window; and Ellen, whose heart wanted a pretext for watching the arrival of Belmont, joined them; when Mrs. Hanson, drawing closer to Edmund, said—“I fear you will not soon join these marrying people, my young friend?”
“I shall never marry, madam,” answered he abruptly.
“Never! you are too positive, sir; men at your age change their minds frequently.”
“Matilda knows that I am not subject to change; she may accuse me of many errors, but not of that.”
“I can accuse you of nothing,” said Matilda; “I wish you could say the same of me.”
“Matilda! Miss Hanson! I accuse you! what right have I to accuse you?”
“Every right. I behaved ill—you condemned me—I saw you did; and—you punished me. I felt your punishment last night—to-day you forgive me; and your forgiveness is—why should I not own it? is dear to me.”