"Can it be that hearts have changed since I was a girl?" the old lady said archly. "What would have tempted me to stay at home when Eleazer asked me to go with him—anywhere? A long ride in the country! Why, that would have been blessed. Are you sure you care for this young man in the right way, dear—if I may ask you a plain question?"
"Why, I don't know," Esther said, stammeringly. "I suppose I do. I try to."
"My dear little girl," said Mrs. Lyman, "can you really think of marrying a person for whom you entertain such a vague uncertain affection?"
"Why, that's the trouble," said Esther. "I don't really want to marry anybody ever. I wish I could be let alone, and not be perplexed about these things, and yet it is very pleasant to have people fond of you, and not feel alone as I do."
"You poor little bud of a girl," Mrs. Lyman said, putting her arms about her, "you should not have been disturbed for a long time yet; you needed a mother to shield you; but you ought to be told that when the one God intends for you crosses your path you will not find it necessary to try to love him. You will, instead, have to pray God to keep you from making him an idol, and where he is, there you will wish to be. Marriage may be the highest state of earthly happiness, and it may be the bitterest bondage. Take care, dear child, how you take vows upon you that your soul revolts from. I believe much of the misery of this life is God's protest against the profanation of this holy ordinance."
It became evident, as the days went by, that Mr. Langdon was hopelessly offended. He did not come to the house or write. Esther was both glad and troubled. Relieved of his constant supervision and criticisms she drew a long breath, and knew, as she had not before, that whatever heart she might possess was not in his keeping. She lived in constant dread that he would return to her after he had punished her sufficiently. And yet his remaining away brought her into trouble with her aunt and cousin; they were already questioning and harassing her beyond endurance. At last, when her aunt wrote Mr. Langdon demanding an explanation, he sent a brief note, saying the engagement between himself and Miss Marlowe was at an end. If she wished for reasons he would refer her to her niece.
Then the storm burst in all its fury. The tongues of mother and daughter were let loose upon her. "Now you shall tell me just what you have done," declared her aunt. "I will not have a gentleman like Mr. Langdon insulted in my own house."
When the story was told, the case was no better for Esther. The rage and disappointment of aunt and cousin knew no bounds.
"Esther, you are a fool!" said her aunt.
"She's a contemptible little minx!" said Miss Sophy. "And I would shut her up and feed her on bread and water until she apologizes."