Mary Adams endeavoured to bear this as meekly as she had borne the flattery and the tenderness which had been lavished on her since her birth.  The bitter, bitter knowledge that she was considered by her lover’s family as a girl who, with the chance of being penniless, lived like a princess, was inconceivably galling; and though she had dismissed her lover, and knew that her father had insulted him, still she wondered how he could so soon forget her, and never write even a line of farewell.  From her mother she did not expect sympathy; she was too tender and too proud to seek it; and her father, more occupied than ever, was seldom in his own house.  Her uncle, who had not been in town for some years, at last arrived, and was not less struck by the extreme grace and beauty of his niece, than by the deep melancholy which saddened her voice and weighed down her spirits.  He was evidently anxious to mention something which made him joyous and happy; and when the doctor entered the library with him, he said, “And may not Mary come in also?” Mary did come in; and her gentle presence subdued her uncle’s spirits.  “I had meant to tell the intended change in my family only to you, brother John; but it has occurred to me we were all wrong about my niece; they said at home, ’Do not invite my cousin, she is too fine, too gay to come to a country wedding; she would not like it;’ but I think, surrounded as she is by luxuries, that the fresh air of Repton, the fresh flowers, fresh fields, and fresh smiles of her cousins would do my niece good, great good, and we shall be quite gay in our own homely way—­the gaiety that upsprings from hearts grateful to the Almighty for his goodness.  The fact is, that in about three weeks my Mary is to be married to our rector’s eldest son!  In three weeks.  As he is only his father’s curate, they could not have afforded to marry for five or six years, if I had not been able to tell down a handsome sum for Mary’s fortune; it was a proud thing to be able to make a good child happy by care in time.  ‘Care in time,’ that’s my stronghold!  How glad we were to look back and think, that while we educated them properly, we denied ourselves to perform our duty to the children God had given to our care.  We have not been as gay as our neighbours, whose means were less than ours; we could not be so, seeing we had to provide for five children; but our pleasure has been to elevate and render those children happy and prosperous.  Mary will be so happy, dear child—­so happy!  Only think, John, she will be six years the sooner happy from our care in time!” This was more than his niece could bear.  The good father was so full of his daughter’s happiness, and the doctor so overwhelmed with self-reproach—­never felt so bitterly as at that moment—­that neither perceived the death-like paleness that overspread the less fortunate Mary’s face.  She got up to leave the room, staggered, and fell at her father’s feet.

“We have murdered her between us,” muttered Dr. Adams, while he raised her up; “murdered her; but I struck the first blow.  God forgive me!  God forgive me!”