“And did this cousin marry the young lady?” inquired Edward, in a tone tremulous with agitation.
“Certainly,” answered the old gentleman; “it was a very great match for her; he bought land to the value of half a million about here.”
“And he was an agreeable, handsome man, we must all allow,” remarked the captain.
“But she would never have married him,” exclaimed the lieutenant, “if poor Hallberg had not died.”
Edward was breathless, but he did not speak a word.
“She would have been compelled to do so in any case,” said the old man; “the father had destined them for each other from infancy, and people say he made his daughter take a vow as he lay on his death-bed.”
“That sounds terrible,” said Edward; “and does not speak much for the good feeling of the cousin.”
“She could not have fulfilled her father’s wish,” interposed the lieutenant; “her heart was bound up in Hallberg, and Hallberg’s in her. Few people, perhaps, knew this, for the lovers were prudent and discreet; I, however, knew it all.”
“And why was she not allowed to follow the inclination of her heart?” asked Edward.
“Because her father had promised her,” replied the captain: “you used just now the word terrible; it is a fitting expression, according to my version of the matter. It appears that one of the branches of the house of Varnier had committed an act of injustice toward another, and Emily’s father considered it a point of conscience to make reparation. Only through the marriage of his daughter with a member of the ill-used branch could that act be obliterated and made up for, and, therefore, he pressed the matter sorely.”