Vane would gladly have
compounded by giving the man two or three thousand acres or the whole
estate, if he wouldn't take less, not to rob her of her husband for a
month; but she was docile, as she was amorous; so she cried (out of
sight) a week; and let her darling go with every misgiving a loving heart
could have; but one! and that one her own heart told her was impossible.
The month rolled away--no symptom of a return. For this, Mr. Vane was
not, in fact, to blame; but, toward the end of the next month, business
became a convenient excuse. When three months had passed, Mrs. Vane
became unhappy. She thought he too must feel the separation. She offered
to come to him. He answered uncandidly. He urged the length, the fatigue
of the journey. She was silenced; but some time later she began to take a
new view of his objections. "He is so self-denying," said she. "Dear
Ernest, he longs for me; but he thinks it selfish to let me travel so far
alone to see him."
Full of this idea, she yielded to her love. She made her preparations,
and wrote to him, that, if he did not forbid her peremptorily, he must
expect to see her at his breakfast-table in a very few days.
Mr. Vane concluded this was a jest, and did not answer this letter at
all.
Mrs. Vane started. She traveled with all speed; but, coming to a halt at
----, she wrote to her husband that she counted on being with him at four
of the clock on Thursday.
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