t, alas! of your stern and
indomitable character; but, upon the subject of forced and unsuitable
matches, I may and I do appeal directly to the experience of your own
married life, and of that of my beloved mother. She was, unhappily for
herself--"

"And for me, Miss Gourlay--"

"Well, perhaps so; but if ever woman was qualified to make a man happy,
she was. At all events, sir, unhappily she was forced into marriage
with you, and you deliberately took to your bosom a reluctant bride. She
possessed extraordinary beauty, and a large fortune. I, however, am not
about to enter into your heart, or analyze its motives; it is enough to
say that, although she had no previous engagement or affection for any
other, she was literally dragged by the force of parental authority
into a union with you. The consequence was, that her whole life, owing
to--to--the unsuitableness of your tempers, and the strongly-contrasted
materials which formed your characters, was one of almost unexampled
suffering and sorrow. With this example before my eyes, and with the
memory of it brooding over and darkening your own heart--yes,
papa--my dear papa, let me call you with the full and most distressing
recollections connected with it strong upon both of us, let me entreat
and implore that you will not urge nor force me into a union with
this hateful and repulsive profligate. I go upon my knees to you, and
entreat, as you regard my happiness, my honor, and my future peace of
mind, that you will not attempt to unite me to this most unprincipled
and dishonorable young man."

Her father's brow grew black as a thunder-cloud; the veins of his
temples swelled up, as if they had been filled with ink, and, after a
few hasty strides through the study, he turned upon her such a look of
fury as we need not attempt to describe.

"Miss Gourlay," said he, in a voice dreadfully deep and stern, "there
is not an allusion made in that undutiful harangue--for so I must call
it--that does not determine me to accomplish my purpose in effecting
this union. If your mother was unhappy, the fault lay in her own weak
and morbid temper. As for me, I now tell you, once for all, that your
destiny is either beggary or a coronet; on that I am resolved!"

She stood before him like one who had drawn strength from the full
knowledge of her fate. Her face, it is true, had become pale, but it was
the paleness of a calm but lofty spirit, and she replied, with a full
and clear voice: