The tears would fain have run away over Marian de Vaux's cheeks; but she shut the gates in time, and only one straggler made its escape into the court of her eyes, unable to get farther. Her cousin did not see one-half of what was going on in the fair tabernacle of her bosom; but he saw that she was much distressed, and endeavoured to sooth her with the same assurances wherewith he made his own mind easy in regard to his father's conduct. "Nay, nay, dearest Marian!" he said, "do not distress yourself about this business, unfortunate as it is. The principal part of my father's present heat in the affair will pass away, for a great share is mere passion. I cannot however flatter myself into believing that his dislike will ever entirely subside, because, as you know, he is not a man who changes easily in such matters; but all his violence and his threatenings will die away and end in nothing." Marian, who had now recovered from her first emotion, paused, and looked pensively upon the ground; but while her bosom seemed as calm as monumental marble, there was a sad struggle going on within. "Edward!" said she, at length, "we cannot tell what may be your father's ultimate conduct; but, indeed, I think, that while his present objection--or, as you call it, dislike--continues, we ought certainly to delay our marriage." "Good God, Marian!" exclaimed Edward de Vaux, in utter astonishment: "in the name of heaven, my beloved, what has my father's dislike to Colonel Manners to do with our union?" "His dislike to Colonel Manners!" said Marian, blushing a good deal as she began to perceive her mistake, and comprehended at a glance that the clearing up of the matter might make an _expose_ of her inmost thoughts that for reasons of her own she did not desire. "His dislike to Colonel Manners! Oh, is that all! His words and conduct towards me just now, made me think that his dislike was to me, Edward, and to our union." "And did the thought give you so much pain, Marian?" said De Vaux, somewhat anxiously. But Marian de Vaux had by this time completely mastered her agitation, and she answered in her usual quiet sweet tone: "Of course it gave me great pain, Edward, to think that I had lost my uncle's regard, and great pain to think that the consequences might pain you. But tell me, was it really nothing more than his dispute with Colonel Manners which made your father's conduct so very strange?" "Nothing more, I can assure you," answered her lover; "but you know that my father, when he bursts forth into one of these fits of passion, is like Don Quixote at the puppet-show, and deals his blows to the right and left upon all things, whether they have offended him or not." "Hush, hush, Edward!" cried Marian, "he is your father, remember."