During these days the intercourse¹ between Lady Carbury and her daughter was constrained² and far from pleasant. Hetta, thinking that she was ill-used, kept herself aloof⁴, and would not speak to her mother of herself or of her troubles. Lady Carbury watching her, but not daring to say much, was at last almost frightened at her girl’s silence. She had assured herself, when she found that Hetta was disposed to quarrel with her lover and to send him back his brooch, that ‘things would come round,’ that Paul would be forgotten quickly — or laid aside as though he were forgotten — and that Hetta would soon perceive it to be her interest to marry her cousin. With such a prospect⁵ before her, Lady Carbury thought it to be her duty as a mother to show no tendency to sympathize with her girl’s sorrow. Such heart-breakings were occurring daily in the world around them. Who were the happy people that were driven neither by ambition, nor poverty, nor greed, nor the cross purposes of unhappy love, to stifle⁶ and trample⁷ upon their feelings? She had known no one so blessed. She had never been happy after that fashion. She herself had within the last few weeks refused to join her lot with that of a man she really liked, because her wicked son was so grievous a burden on her shoulders. A woman, she thought, if she were unfortunate enough to be a lady without wealth of her own, must give up everything, her body, her heart — her very soul if she were that way troubled — to the procuring⁸ of a fitting maintenance for herself. Why should Hetta hope to be more fortunate than others? And then the position which chance now offered to her was fortunate. This cousin of hers, who was so devoted⁹ to her, was in all respects good. He would not torture her by harsh restraint and cruel temper. He would not drink. He would not spend his money foolishly. He would allow her all the

分享到：