Yet your
words only strengthen me in my duty. It is true, as you say, my
parents are old. Can I grieve and wring their careworn hearts? No, no!
What recompense can a child make her parents for all their unselfish
love, and constant watching over, and providing for, from the first
feeble baby days, to the time when they could, if willing, return all
this, by simple duty; obedience to their will. Think, Ernest, how, in
my days of illness, my mother watched over and soothed me. The long,
sleepless nights spent over my cradle--praying God to spare her
child--for what? to prove an ungrateful one! Oh, no! I could look for
no blessing on our union if I should be deaf to the pleading of my
parents, and heedless of God's own command.
"Perhaps some time hence they may think differently. Then, if you
have not sought and won another, we may be happy. One thing you may
rest assured of, I shall never wed Gerald Moreton, or any other. I
obeyed my father in resigning you, but cannot perjure myself by taking
the marriage vows, even at their command. Do not leave me in anger,
Ernest. Let your last look be of kindness and forgiveness for the
sorrow I cause you. Now, a long look into your eyes, to engrave them
forever on my heart.
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