But she could not relinquish the hopes and aspirations of long years, especially after all the desperate measures which she had adopted to attain them, not even for the love which she craved with all the strength of her nature; not even to save this man, who was the dearest object which the world held for her. “It cannot be; it is useless to discuss the matter further,” she responded, and turned abruptly away to leave him. But he seized her hand again and threw himself before her. “You are utterly without heart or feeling, but you shall never be my brother’s wife!” he cried in a tone that smote her with a sudden fear. Then he flung her hand violently from him, and turning, rushed quickly from her sight. Two days later the Winthrops and Rochesters started for Italy. Dr. Winthrop continued to resist his mother’s pleadings that he would accompany them. She had fondly hoped that since he had yielded his will and agreed to marry Sadie, he might consent to act as their escort in company with his brother. She and Mrs. Rochester had had visions of a brilliant wedding in Rome, where they were to spend the winter together with many other Americans whom they knew, for they imagined that it would give considerable _éclat_ to the event if they could have the union solemnized there; more than that, they were anxious to have the marriage consummated as soon as possible lest something should occur to prevent it altogether. “I do not believe in long engagements, Truman,” madam said to him on the morning of their departure; “promise me that you will not delay your marriage, that you will take your wife home with you when you return to America.” Dr. Winthrop’s face grew stern. It annoyed him exceedingly to have the subject continually harped upon, and yet he well knew they would never let him alone until he yielded to their importunities. Well, if he must marry Sadie Rochester, it did not much matter when, he told himself, and so, with a feeling of desperation at his heart, and to quiet madam, he said: “Well, mother, I will think of it.” Madam’s face grew radiant. “Now you are sensible,” she said; “when will you join us?” “I cannot tell yet—you will be travelling for a month yet, and I shall not be able to leave Paris at present, perhaps not under a couple of months,” he returned, putting off the evil day as long as possible. “Well, then I shall look for you in Rome two months from now, shall I?” she asked, determined to make him commit himself to something. “Ye-s—perhaps. I will, however, write you before that, of my plans.” “And, Truman, why won’t you be married in Rome? it would be such a fitting place.”