Like many others, she had vainly
imagined that, in renouncing virtue itself for the man she loved, she
was for ever ensuring his boundless gratitude and adoration; and she
only awoke from her delusive dream to find herself friendless in a
foreign land, an outcast from society, an object of indifference even to
him for whom she had abandoned all.
But Lady Juliana would see nothing of all this. She was charmed at what
she termed this proof of her daughter's affection, in wishing to have
her with her; and the prospect of going abroad seemed like a vision of
paradise to her. Instant preparations were made for her departure, and
in the bustle attendant on them, Mary and her affairs sank into utter
insignificance. Indeed, she seemed rather anxious to get her disposed of
in any way that might prevent her interfering with her own plans; and a
consent to her marriage, such as it was, was easily obtained.
"Marry whom you please," said she; "only remember I am not responsible
for the consequences. I have always told you what a wretched thing a
love-marriage is, therefore you are not to blame me for your future
misery."
Mary readily subscribed to the conditions; but, as she embraced her
mother at parting, she timidly whispered a hope that she would ever
consider her house as her home. A smile of contempt was the only reply
she received, and they parted never more to meet.
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