It is the law of God and the law of nature, and it is commanded by the Church, in the majority of cases, that a woman should be a wife and mother; and a child’s fancies must not be allowed to interfere with the performance, by her mother, of the most sacred duty. Love, obedience, self-sacrifice, these are woman’s duties, her privilege, her happiness. My Fulvia shall not have the path to them closed, and by her own mother. Excuse this long dissertation on my part. I fancy you were going to say something, and I am prepared to give it my full attention, from politeness--the politeness which is habitual in our country--not because you have any right to utter a word in the matter.’ ‘Yes; I had something to say,’ replied Minna, refusing to be befogged by madame’s eloquence, though she saw that the author of that eloquence believed firmly in every word she spoke. She was convinced that the act she contemplated was for Fulvia’s good, as well as to her own advantage, and this conviction, of course, made it more difficult to argue with her. ‘This is what I had to say,’ Minna went on, after pausing to draw breath. She spoke curtly, plainly, and almost roughly. ‘You have selected for your daughter’s husband a man whom she loathes. He is not her countryman. He has no such ideas as those you have just been speaking of. He is rich, but he is not even a gentleman. He is a vulgar, purse-proud, mean upstart. He is not in society; his manners are too odious and his stinginess too great to admit him there. Your daughter will not even gain a position by marrying him. He proposed to a young Englishwoman who, happier than your daughter, was able to decide for herself in the matter, and who rejected him with contempt. Had he ventured to address her again, her brothers would probably have horsewhipped him--as he deserved. He is a coward. He knows that Fulvia detests him, and he shelters himself behind your authority, which can compel her to the hateful marriage with him. All his money cannot make him anything but detestable to a modest and pure-minded girl--like your little Fulvia,’ she added, with a slight break in her voice, as she laid her hand for an instant on the girl’s wrist. ‘You are not doing your duty by her. You are committing a hideous sin in tying what you yourself call a modest and virtuous girl to that--bah! I should have no right to say these things to you if I had not something to propose as an alternative. You say you love your daughter. In that case, I suppose you are willing to make some sacrifice for her sake, and to secure her happiness. I hear that Mr. Marchmont is to relieve you from all money embarrassments. If I were a rich woman, I would say, “Take twice as much from me as he gives you.” But I am not rich. I am only moderately well off. All I can propose is this: If you will release Fulvia from her engagement, I will provide for her both now and in the future. At present I will take the whole expense of her maintenance from you. If