“Colonel Lennox and you have behaved like two fools,” said she, at the end of her cousin’s communication.  “What could possibly instigate you to so absurd an act as that of asking Lady Juliana’s consent?  You surely might have known that the person who is never consulted about anything will invariably start difficulties to everything; and that people who are never accustomed to be even listened to get quite unmanageable when appealed to.  Lady Juliana gave an immediate assent to Lord Glenallan’s proposals because she was the first person consulted about them; and besides, she had a sort of an instinctive knowledge that it would create a sensation and make her of consequence—­in short, she was to act in a sort of triple capacity, as parent, lover, and bride.  Here, on the contrary, she was aware that her consent would stand as a mere cipher, and, once given, would never be more heard of.  Liberty of opinion is an attitude many people quite lose themselves in.  When once they attempt to think, it makes confusion worse confounded; so it is much better to take that labour off their hands, and settle the matter for them.  It would have been quite time enough to have asked Lady Juliana’s consent after the thing was over; or, at any rate, the minute before it was to take place.  I would not even have allowed her time for a flood of tears or a fit of hysterics.  And now that your duty has brought you to this, even my genius is a a loss how to extricate you.  Gretna Green might have been advisable, and that would have accorded with your notions of duty; that would have been following your mamma’s own footsteps; but it is become too vulgar an exploit.  I read of a hatter’s apprentice having carried off a grocer’s heiress t’other day.  What do you purpose doing yourself?”

“To try the effect of patience and submission,” said Mary, “rather than openly set at defiance one of the most sacred duties—­the obedience of a child to a parent.  Besides, I could not possibly be happy were I to marry under such circumstances.”

“You have much too nice a conscience,” said Lady Emily; “and yet I could scarcely wish you otherwise than you are.  What an angel you are, to behave as you do to such a mother; with such sweetness, and gentleness, and even respect!  Ah! they know little of human nature who think that to perform great actions one must necessarily be a great character.  So far from that, I now see there may be much more real greatness of mind displayed in the quiet tenor of a woman’s life than in the most brilliant exploits that ever were performed by man.  Methinks I myself could help to storm a city; but to rule my own spirit is a task beyond me.  What a pity it is you and I cannot change places.  Here am I, languishing for a little opposition to my love.  My marriage will be quite an insipid, every-day affair; I yawn already to think of it.  Can anything be more disheartening to a young couple, anxious to signalise their attachment in the face