“Nay, nay, have patience—have faith,” answered her husband, seizing her hand and caressing her. “Mr. Curling has acted wildly, but he is an honourable man. They both knew we should never consent to their marriage, and they have done as thousands have done before them—defied father and mother, and eloped. To-morrow we shall get a letter, telling us they are married, and begging our forgiveness.”
“Of course they have run away to get married,” I gasped.
“But oh! what a man to marry! Oh, what a man to have for a son-in-law!” raved my aunt. “I felt—I knew all along that Conny was in love with him, and so I wanted her to marry you. I was certain that she would never be safe from that wicked wretch until she was married. All along I was certain of that.”
“We never went to bed all last night,” groaned my uncle.
“Oh, Thomas, Thomas!” cried my aunt. “Why did you discourage my efforts to marry her to Charlie? Why did you tell him you could never sanction his marriage with her? Didn’t I assure you, night after night, that there was no other way of saving her from that wretch! My child, my child! where is she now? Will she ever come back to me?”
“She will, believe me, she will,” I said. “She will tell you that she never could have been happy without Curling, and nothing you could have said or done would have prevented this thing from happening sooner or later.”
“But to be deceived by one’s only child!” burst out my aunt. “Has she no heart? Didn’t she fear that such conduct would break her papa and me down, and put us into our graves? And how cruelly you have been deceived!”
“Oh, don’t think of me—I am nowhere in this grief. What can I do to serve you? Give me some commission.”
“If I knew where to find her,” cried my uncle, “I wouldn’t seek her. What! bring her back alone, after she has been away from us two days? If she returns at all, she must return with her husband.”
“You are quite right,” said I. “We can do nothing but be patient. Depend upon it you will receive a letter from her to-morrow morning.”