She could understand that such a circumstance, affecting one of so little importance as herself, should be nothing to a man like her uncle; but it was everything to her.

George had forgotten her, and she had wept sorely over his want of constancy.

But though telling herself that this certainly was so, she had declared to herself that she would never be untrue till her want of truth had been put beyond the reach of doubt.

Who does not know how hope remains, when reason has declared that there is no longer ground for hoping?
Such had been the state of her mind hitherto; but what would be the good of entertaining hope, even if there were ground for hoping, when, as was so evident, her uncle would never permit George and her to be man and wife?
And did she not owe everything to her uncle?
And was it not the duty of a girl to obey her guardian?
Would not all the world be against her if she refused this man?
Her mind was tormented by a thousand doubts, when her uncle said another word to her, just as they were entering the village.
'You will try and think better of it;--will you not, my dear ?' She was silent.

'Come, Marie, you can say that you will try.