whenever she ventured to remonstrate, and told her not to trouble herself or Mary about such things; they had enough, and he would take care that sufficiency should not fail.  A dim foreboding crossed Mrs. Greville’s mind at these words; but her husband’s manner, though careless, preventing all further expostulation, she was compelled to suppress, if she could not conquer, her anxiety.  At length, the storm that Mary had long felt was brooding in this unnatural calm, burst over her, and opened Mrs. Greville’s eyes at once.

Among their most constant but least welcome visitors was a Monsieur Dupont, a man of polished manners certainly, the superficial polish of the Frenchman, but of no other attraction, and even in that there was something about him to Mary particularly repulsive.  He had seen some threescore years; his countenance, in general inexpressive, at times betrayed that strong and evil passions were working at his heart.  He was said to be very rich, though some reports had gone about that his fortune had all been amassed by gambling in no very honourable manner.  With this man Mr. Greville was continually associated; they were seldom seen apart, and being thus the favourite of the master, he was constantly at the house.  To Mrs. Greville as to Mary he was an object of indefinable yet strong aversion, and willingly would they have always denied themselves, and thus escaped his odious presence.  Once they had done so, but the storm of fury that burst from Mr. Greville intimidated both; they felt some little concession on their parts was demanded to preserve peace, and Monsieur Dupont continued his visits.

To this man, publicly known as unprincipled, selfish, incapable of one exalted or generous feeling, Greville had sworn to give his gentle and unoffending child; this man he sternly commanded Mary to receive as her husband, and prepare herself for her marriage within a month.

As if a thunderbolt had fallen, Mary and her mother listened to these terrible words, and scarcely had the latter sufficient courage to inform her unpitying husband of their child’s engagement with Herbert Hamilton.  For Mary’s sake, she struggled and spoke, but her fears were not without foundation.  A horrid imprecation on Mr. Hamilton and his family burst instantly from the lips of the now infuriated Greville; he had chosen for many years to fancy himself deeply injured by that gentleman, and, with an oath too fearful to be written, he solemnly swore that Mary should never be the wife of Herbert; he would rather see her dead.  Louder and louder grew his passion, but Mrs. Greville heard him not.  Mary had dropped as if lifeless at his feet.  She had sprung up as if to arrest the imprecation on her father’s lips, but when his dreadful oath reached her ears, her senses happily forsook her, and it was long, very long before she woke to consciousness and thought.  Mrs. Greville hung in agony over the couch of her unhappy child; scarcely could she pray or wish for