Soon as her spirits were a little recovered, she insisted that her daughter and son-in-law should instantly step into her coach and go home with her. "Your father, my dear," said she to Louisa, "your father, Monsieur D'Aubrey, will, I am certain, do something for us." But in this she was woefully mistaken, for Monsieur D'Aubrey was one of that blind sort who place all their religion in forms and notions. He could smile and look very fond upon a man, though not over moral, provided that man went to his church -- praised his preacher and opinions, and abused everybody else; but would look very sour on the best man on earth who differed from him in those things. In short, he was destitute of love, the sole life of religion. And though on account of his wife's importunities and his daughter's repose, he had consented to her marriage with Marion, yet he never liked the young `heretic', and therefore he read the order of his banishment without any burst of grief, and made no effort to revoke the decrees of the church against him, but abandoned him to his fate. Such insensibility to her husband's interest distressed poor Louisa exceedingly. However, it had this good effect: It contributed greatly to lessen her regret at parting with her parents. "O had they but loved me as you do, my Marion," said she, "could they have been so indifferent when my all was at stake? No, indeed," continued she, "they could not," and burst into tears. "Dearest Louisa!" replied he, tenderly embracing her, "would not I leave father and mother and all for you?" "Well," returned she, with eyes of love, outshining all diamonds, "and am I not going to leave all for you? Yet a few days and I shall have no father, no mother, no country; cut off from all the world but you, Marion! alas! what will become of me if you should prove cruel to me?" "Cruel! cruel to you, Louisa! O my God, can that ever be?" "Ah Marion! but some excellent women have left father and mother, and followed their husbands; and yet, after all have been cruelly neglected by them!"