"Proceed! Why should I tell you more? My mother urged me to promise her that I would be married whilst she was yet alive, that was, immediately. I refused. She asked me if I had any objection to make to the beauty, birth, and qualities of the young lady. I replied that I acknowledged them all, and that she was remarkably accomplished; but I told my mother, too, that I would not be married. Then she began to weep. Strong emotion is too distressing for her, weak as she is, and she fainted. I believed that I was going to lose her, and all my tenderness revived. When she came to herself, my mother pressed my hand, and with cutting tenderness begged my pardon for having sought to thwart me in my wishes; adding, that she would not again advert to the subject. But I know, I feel that I have struck her a deep blow by my refusal, the consequences of which I dare not even think of. She had built all her greatest, her final hopes on this marriage. Yesterday she was worse. I found her deeply dejected, but she did not say one word relative to this union. Yet, in spite of her soft and saddened smile, I read all her disappointment in her features, and left her with my heart rent in twain. Her failing health will not, I fear, withstand such violent shocks. Well, then, tell me, Paula, can any lot be more wretched than mine? My senses seem to have forsaken me. Was it not sufficient to be separated from you by a solemn oath? It interdicted me from the present, but then at least it left me the future. Now it is necessary, to render my mother's dying hours easy and tranquil, that I should resign myself to this hateful, impossible marriage, which will destroy even the faint hopes which remain to me. Once again, it shall not be! no, no, a thousand times no! Paula, if you love me--if you are capable of sacrificing as much as I sacrifice for you--and we shall not have to blush in each other's presence----" "No; for both of us will then have trampled under foot our oaths and our duties," said Paula, interrupting De Morville. "We will fly to the world's end, and----" "And the first effervescence of love passed, the hatred and contempt we shall feel for each other will avenge those we have sacrificed. My dear De Morville, your reason wanders." "What would you have me do?" "Not perjure yourself; not hasten your mother's death." "Renounce you! marry another! never--never!" "Listen to me. I declare to you that I cannot love a man cowardly and perjured, not even if it were for my sake that he basely perjured himself. My self-love, as a woman, is satisfied when with you for a few moments passion has conquered duty. This is sufficing. You have sworn never to say a word which could induce me to forget my duty,--you will keep this oath." "But----" "I will keep it for you if you are ever tempted to break it." "And this marriage?" said De Morville, with bitterness,--"this marriage, you advise me to consent to it, no doubt?" "No."