"True, you could not," said my mother; "but it is very unlucky, and I fear trouble will arise to you from the affair. My sister will believe harm of any one sooner than of her own daughters, though she knows and has said as much to me, that Betty is both malicious and deceitful. Well, my love, we must do our best, and leave the event in other hands. I believe you have been quite guiltless in the whole matter; and not only so, but that you have acted with great discretion. But, coming so soon after the affair of the book, I fear you will be blamed for what you have had no hand in." "Then you do believe in me, maman?" I asked, kissing her hand. "Most surely I do, my child. What did Andrew say?" "He looked at me and asked what he was to believe, and then I told him he could believe what he pleased. He had been talking before that about the book, and asked me whether it was the first time, and I told him—what I told you, maman. Then he did not speak again till we came upon Betty and Mr. Lovel." "Andrew shows a side of his character which does not please me," remarked my mother. "With all his good qualities there is a certain hardness about him. It was not generous in him to bring the subject up again." I had thought the same, and I now spoke with a decision and boldness which surprised myself. "Maman, you must let me say one thing, and please do not be angry. I will never consent to marry Andrew while he is as he is now—while he distrusts me, or shows such a coldness toward me. Nothing shall force me to it." "Certainly I shall not force you to it," returned my mother, with equal decision. "My child shall never go to a cold or unwilling bridegroom." "I wish I had never seen him," said I, and with that I fell a-weeping with such violence that my mother was alarmed. She led me up to bed herself, administered a quieting potion, and sat by me till I fell asleep. The next morning I awaked refreshed in body, but so heavily burdened in mind and heart that I shut my eyes and wished the daylight would never come. But daylight and darkness do not change to suit our moods, and I reflected that I must not add to my mother's cares; so I rose and dressed, and tried to be composed if I could not be cheerful. We had hardly finished our breakfast when a messenger came down requesting our presence at the court. We found the whole family assembled in the cedar room, together with Mr. Level. Betty was pale as death, but demure and collected. Mr. Level was trying, with some success, to play the easy fine gentleman and man of the world. Andrew was stern and silent. The moment we entered my aunt fell upon me with violent and incoherent reproaches for leading her child astray. "Hush, mother!" said Andrew. "Let Vevette be heard in her own defence, if she hath anything to say."