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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"The Cloister and the Hearth"


She left him, and he fell on his knees, and prayed for help from above.
Margaret went home pale and agitated. "Mother," said she, "never mention
it to me again, or we shall quarrel."
"He forbade you? Well, more shame for him, that is all."
"He forbid me? He did not condescend so far. He was as noble as I
was paltry. He would not choose for me for fear of choosing me an ill
husband. But he would read the service for my groom and me; that was his
right. Oh, mother, what a heartless creature I was!"
"Well, I thought not he had that much sense."
"Ah, you go by the poor soul's words, but I rate words as air when
the face speaketh to mine eye. I saw the priest and the true lover
a-fighting in his dear face, and his cheek pale with the strife, and oh!
his poor lip trembled as he said the stout-hearted words--Oh! oh! oh!
oh! oh! oh! oh!" And Margaret burst into a violent passion of tears.
Catherine groaned. "There, give it up without more ado," said she. "You
two are chained together for life; and if God is merciful, that won't be
for long; for what are you neither maid, wife, nor widow."
"Give it up?" said Margaret; "that was done long ago. All I think of now
is comforting him; for now I have been and made him unhappy too, wretch
and monster that I am."
So the next day they both went to Gouda. And Gerard, who had been
praying for resignation all this time, received her with peculiar
tenderness as a treasure he was to lose; but she was agitated and eager
to let him see without words that she would never marry, and she fawned
on him like a little dog to be forgiven.


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