"'I know just how _frillickin'_ you are,' he wrote, 'and I know, too, how unsuitable and how unhappy most early marriages are--so my boy, if you want Sunnyside, wait till you are twenty-five before you take an extra rib. I hate to be bothered with letters, and if you don't answer this, I shall conclude that you accept my terms.'" "Mrs. Le Vert at once suggested that, as the old gentleman had already had two fits of apoplexy, and would undoubtedly soon have the third, our marriage should for a time be kept a secret. "But he didn't consent," cried Rosamond. "Yes, he did," answered Miss Porter, "and though I, too, said it would be best, I began to distrust him from that moment--to think that he preferred money to myself. Uncle Bertram promised secrecy and went back alone, and then commenced a life of wretchedness, which makes me shudder even to recall it. With the exception of my own servant, who dared not tell if I bade her be silent, the blacks knew nothing of our marriage, and though we lived together as man and wife, so skillfully did Mrs. Le Vert and Esther, her white domestic, manage the matter, that for a time our secret was safely kept. A few of the negroes discovered it ere I left, but as they always lived in that out-of-the- way place, it never followed me, and to this day no human being in Florida, save Uncle Bertram knows of the marriage. "I am very impulsive, and the excitement being over, my affection began to cool. Richard could have kept it alive had he tried, but he did not. On the contrary he was much alone, and when with me was always tormenting me with conscientious scruples about deceiving 'the old man.'" "Oh, I like him for that," cried Rosamond, "I like him for that. Why didn't you let him tell?" "Because," returned Miss Porter, "I had fears that father would disinherit _me_, and if Richard lost Sunnyside we should be poor indeed." A shadow passed over Rosamond's face, and she said involuntarily, "I could be happy with Mr. Browning if we _were_ poor." Marie started and answered quickly, "What has _Mr. Browning_ to do with my story?" "Nothing, nothing," returned Rosamond, "only I was thinking that if you loved Richard as well as I do Mr. Browning, you would not have cared for money." "But I didn't," returned Marie. "I was mistaken. 'Twas a mere childish fancy. I never loved him. _I hate him now_." She spoke vehemently, and when Rosamond said mournfully. "Hate your husband!" she replied, "Yes, more than _hate_, or I had never come to tell you this; but listen--from indifference we came to coldness--from coldness to recrimination--from that to harsh words--from harsh words to quarrels--and from quarrels to _blows_!" She uttered the last word slowly, while Rosamond exclaimed, "Not _blows_, Miss Porter! No man would strike a woman. _I_ almost hate him, now."