result of this
misfortune, and yet not knowing how to begin her task. Mary was
partly aware of what was coming, and had fortified herself to reject
all advice, to assert her right to do as she pleased with herself,
and to protest that she cared nothing for the prudent views of
worldly-minded people. But she was afraid of what was coming. She
knew that arguments would be used which she would find it very
difficult to answer; and, although she had settled upon certain
strong words which she would speak, she felt that she would be
driven at last to quarrel with her aunt. On one thing she was quite
resolved. Nothing should induce her to give up her engagement,--short
of the expression of a wish to that effect from Walter Marrable
himself.

"How will this affect you, dear?" said Miss Marrable at last.

"I should have been a poor man's wife any how. Now I shall be the
wife of a very poor man. I suppose that will be the effect."

"What will he do?"

"He has, aunt, made up his mind to go to India."

"Has he made up his mind to anything else?"

"Of course, I know what you mean, aunt?"

"Why should you not know? I mean, that a man going out to India, and
intending to live there as an officer on his pay, cannot be in want
of a wife."

"You speak of a wife as if she were the same as a coach-and-four, or
a box at the opera,--a sort of luxury for rich men. Marriage, aunt,
is like death, common to all."

"In our position in life, Mary, marriage cannot be made so common as
to be undertaken without foresight for the morrow. A poor gentleman
is further removed from marriage than any other man."

"One knows, of course, that there will be difficulties."

"What I mean, Mary, is, that you will have to give it up."

"Never, Aunt Sarah. I shall never give it up."

"Do you mean that you will marry him now, at once, and go out to
India with him, as a dead weight round his neck?"

"I mean that he shall choose about that."

"It is for you to choose, Mary. Don't be angry. I am bound to tell
you what I think. You can, of course, act as you please; but I think
that you ought to listen to me. He cannot go back from his engagement
without laying himself open to imputation of bad conduct."

"Nor can I."

"Pardon me, dear. That depends, I think, upon what passes between
you. It is at any rate for you to propose the release to him,--not to
fix him with the burthen of proposing it." Mary's heart quailed as
she heard this, but she di