Overwhelmed by this intelligence, Mary rolled her eyes about, then, with a vacant stare, fixed them on her father’s face; but they were no longer a sense; they conveyed no ideas to the brain.  As she drew near the house, her wonted presence of mind returned:  after this suspension of thought, a thousand darted into her mind,—­her dying mother,—­her friend’s miserable situation,—­and an extreme horror at taking—­at being forced to take, such a hasty step; but she did not feel the disgust, the reluctance, which arises from a prior attachment.

She loved Ann better than any one in the world—­to snatch her from the very jaws of destruction—­she would have encountered a lion.  To have this friend constantly with her; to make her mind easy with respect to her family, would it not be superlative bliss?

Full of these thoughts she entered her mother’s chamber, but they then fled at the sight of a dying parent.  She went to her, took her hand; it feebly pressed her’s.  “My child,” said the languid mother:  the words reached her heart; she had seldom heard them pronounced with accents denoting affection; “My child, I have not always treated you with kindness—­God forgive me! do you?”—­Mary’s tears strayed in a disregarded stream; on her bosom the big drops fell, but did not relieve the fluttering tenant.  “I forgive you!” said she, in a tone of astonishment.

The clergyman came in to read the service for the sick, and afterwards the marriage ceremony was performed.  Mary stood like a statue of Despair, and pronounced the awful vow without thinking of it; and then ran to support her mother, who expired the same night in her arms.

Her husband set off for the continent the same day, with a tutor, to finish his studies at one of the foreign universities.

Ann was sent for to console her, not on account of the departure of her new relation, a boy she seldom took any notice of, but to reconcile her to her fate; besides, it was necessary she should have a female companion, and there was not any maiden aunt in the family, or cousin of the same class.

CHAP.  VI.

Mary was allowed to pay the rent which gave her so much uneasiness, and she exerted every nerve to prevail on her father effectually to succour the family; but the utmost she could obtain was a small sum very inadequate to the purpose, to enable the poor woman to carry into execution a little scheme of industry near the metropolis.

Her intention of leaving that part of the country, had much more weight with him, than Mary’s arguments, drawn from motives of philanthropy and friendship; this was a language he did not understand; expressive of occult qualities he never thought of, as they could not be seen or felt.

After the departure of her mother, Ann still continued to languish, though she had a nurse who was entirely engrossed by the desire of amusing her.  Had her health been re-established, the time would have passed in a tranquil, improving manner.