“It is like selling your soul to the devil, to marry a woman only for her money!” I burst out.
“You’ll marry her for love—mark my words.”
“Love! how many hearts do you think I have? but no matter—I’ll wait.”
Here I got up, for I was really afraid of growing hysterical.
“Your father will jump for joy when he hears of this,” said my uncle, squeezing my hand.
Now, whether I was hysterical, or whether my sense of the ridiculous was deeply stirred by the ludicrous image of my tall and stately father jumping for joy, I burst into a loud laugh, in which my uncle joined; and half choking with a fit of merriment that was really made ghastly by its approximation to the most morbid and passionate thoughts, I rushed away from the house.
CHAPTER II.
“From better habitations spurn’d,