"Ah, Margaretta! You know not what you are doing. Marriage is a far more serious matter than you seem to think it. Look around among your young acquaintances, and see how many have wedded unhappily. And why? Because marriages were rushed into from a fond impulse, vainly imagined to be true affection. But no true affection can exist where there is not a mutual knowledge of character and qualities of mind. Now what do you know, really, about Mr. Smith? What does he know about you? Why, nothing! I want no stronger evidence of his unworthy motives, than the fact of his having offered himself after a three weeks' acquaintance. What could he know of you in that time? Surely not enough to be able to determine whether you would make him a suitable wife or not—enough, perhaps, to be satisfied of the amount of your wealth."
"You are unjust towards Mr. Smith," said Margaretta, half indignantly.
"Not half so unjust as he is towards you. But surely, my niece, you will reconsider this whole matter, and take full time to reflect."
"I cannot reconsider, aunt. My word is passed, and I would suffer any thing rather than break my word."
"You will suffer your heart to be broken, if you do not."
"Time will prove that!" and Margaretta tossed her head with a kind of mock defiance.
"Have you fixed your wedding day?" the aunt asked after a few moments' silence.
"Not yet. But Mr. Smith wants to be married in three weeks."
"In three weeks!"
"Yes; but I told him that I could not get ready within a month."