“The truth is, Julia, you have flirted with Herbert long enough, and he thinks you have not treated him quite well. If I make such an appeal to him, his cold temper will be roused, and he will be off altogether, which would be a misfortune of no common magnitude; for I must tell you that there is not the least chance that I shall ever be able to pay a fraction of this money; and only as the husband of my daughter can I prevent him from taking such steps as will ruin me at once. On one hand, it is a choice of poverty to all you love, and on the other, a good husband with plenty of money. You are too sensible to be romantic; and besides, as you have never yet fallen in love, you have no predilection to plead.”
At his last words arose the appalling recollection of her clandestine attachment—and she cast herself at the feet of her father.
“Pardon me, my father, and pity me! I have loved—I do love, with a depth and truth that death alone can destroy. Ask me not to wed this man, for I am plighted heart and soul to another.”
“To whom?” was the stern question. “I know of no one who receives the encouragement of a lover, save Herbert.”
“One far away—seeking distinction in a foreign land. Oh, blight not the promise of his young years by compelling me to falsehood and desertion.”
“What! that beggarly painter, Mervin! And is it for him you have slighted the highest in station—the brightest in intellect! For two years you have carried on this deception unsuspected—I have but one atonement to demand for such duplicity. Accept Herbert, and it shall be forgotten—refuse, and you are no longer a child of mine.”
Vain were the pleadings of the unhappy girl—vain her appeals to his better feelings. Glad of a pretext to treat her with such harshness as to drive her into his measures, Mr. Selwyn availed himself to the utmost of the one which was offered. She was literally left no choice between a marriage she detested, or expulsion from the paternal roof.
It is doubtful whether the parents would have carried their resentment so far, had she finally refused compliance with their wishes; but there was so much at stake, that both father and mother scrupled not to use every endeavor to urge her into the proposed union.
The constitution of Julia had never been robust; and the conflict in her feelings brought on a severe attack of illness, from which she very slowly recovered; and there was a brightness in the large-pupiled eyes, and a clear spot of rose upon her cheek, which seemed to speak of early decay and death. She went out once more, and listened with apparent acquiescence to the wishes of her parents in regard to her marriage.
Herbert was roused into something like interest, and his attentions were unremitting. Julia received them passively—she felt herself a victim to a fate she had no power to control, and yielded to the will of those around her. Yet she could not write to Mervin; she could not tell him who trusted her that she was about to wed another. No words could convey to him the wearing persecutions of which she had been the victim, even could a daughter bring herself to write such things of her parents. Her energies were destroyed, and she felt herself borne forward on the current of events, without the power to avert the doom they had awarded her.