are not the occupations of a sick woman, are they? but I am well enough. I hope I shall never again cause you such a dangerous journey as last night.
–There was no danger on that trip," I replied.
–The river, yes, the river! I thought of that and of so many things that could happen to you because of me.
A three-league journey? You call this…?
–That voyage on which you might have drowned," said the doctor here, so surprised, that he had not yet pressed me, and was already talking about it. You and he, on your return, had to wait two hours for the river to go down.
–The doctor on horseback is a mule; and his patient mule is not the same as a good horse.
–The man who lives in the little house by the pass," Maria interrupted me, "when he recognised your black horse this morning, he was amazed that the rider who jumped into the river last night had not drowned just as he was shouting to him that there was no ford. Oh, no, no; I don't want to get sick again. Hasn't the doctor told you that I won't get sick again?
–Yes," I replied; "and he has promised me not to let two days in succession pass in this fortnight without coming to see you.
–Then you won't have to make another overnight trip. What would I have done if I…
–You would have cried a lot, wouldn't you? -I replied with a smile.
He looked at me for a few moments, and I added:
–Can I be sure of dying at any time convinced that…
–From what?
And guessing the rest in my eyes:
–Always, always! -she added almost secretly, appearing to examine the beautiful lace on the cushions.
–And I have very sad things to say to you," he continued after a few moments' silence; "so sad, that they are the cause of my illness. You were on the mountain. Mamma knows all about it; and I heard papa tell her that my mother had died of a disease whose name I never heard; that you were destined to make a fine career; and that I – I – I don't know whether it's a matter of the heart or not. Ah, I don't know whether what I heard is true – I don't deserve that you should be as you are with me.
Tears rolled from her veiled eyes to her pale cheeks, which she hastened to wipe away.
–Don't say that, Maria, don't think it," I said; "no, I beg you.
–But I heard about it, and then I didn't know about myself.... Why, then?
–Look, I beg you, I… I… Will you allow me to command you to speak no more of it?
She had dropped her forehead on the arm on which she was leaning, and whose hand I was clasping in mine, when I heard in the next room the rustle of Emma's clothes approaching.
That evening at dinner time my sisters and I were in the dining room waiting for my parents, who took longer than usual. At last they were heard talking in the drawing-room, as if ending an important conversation. My father's noble physiognomy showed, in the slight contraction of the extremities of his lips, and in the little wrinkle between his brows, that he had just had a moral struggle which had upset him. My mother was pale, but without making the least effort to appear calm, she said to me as she sat down at the table:
–I hadn't remembered to tell you that José came to see us this morning and to invite you to a hunt; but when he heard the news, he promised to come back very early tomorrow morning. Do you know if it's true that one of his daughters is getting married?
–He will try to consult you about his project," my father remarked absently.
–It's probably a bear hunt," I replied.
–Of bears? What! Do you hunt bears?
–Yes, sir; it's a funny hunt I've done with him a few times.
–In my country," said my father, "they would think you a barbarian or a hero.
–And yet such a game is less dangerous than that of deer, which is made every day and everywhere; for the former, instead of requiring the hunters to tumble unwittingly through heather and waterfalls, requires only a little agility and accurate marksmanship.
My father, his countenance no longer showing its former frown, spoke of the way deer were hunted in Jamaica, and of how fond his relatives had been of this kind of pastime, Solomon being distinguished among them for his tenacity, skill, and enthusiasm, of whom he told us, with a laugh, some anecdotes.
As we got up from the table, he came up to me and said:
–Your mother and I have something to talk over with you; come to my room later.
As I entered the room, my father was writing with his back to my mother, who was in the less well-lit part of the room, sitting in the armchair she always sat in whenever she stopped there.
–Sit down," he said, stopping his writing for a moment and looking at me over the white glass and gold-rimmed mirrors.
After a few minutes, having carefully put back the account book in which he was writing, he moved a seat nearer to the one I was sitting on, and in a low voice spoke thus:
–I wanted your mother to be present at this conversation, because it is a serious matter on which she has the same opinion as I have.
He went to the door to open it and throw away the cigar he was smoking, and continued in this manner:
–You have been with us three months now, and it is only after two more that Mr. A*** will be able to start on his journey to Europe, and it is with him that you must go. This delay, in a certain degree, means nothing, both because it is very agreeable to us to have you with us after six years' absence, to be followed by others, and because I note with pleasure that even here, study is one of your favourite pleasures. I cannot conceal from you, nor must I, that I have conceived great hopes, from your character and aptitudes, that you will crown the career you are about to pursue with brilliancy. You are not unaware that the family will soon need your support, and all the more so after the death of your brother.
Then, pausing, he continued:
–There is something in your conduct which I must tell you is not right; you are but twenty years old, and at that age a love inconsiderately fostered might render illusory all the hopes of which I have just spoken to you. You love Maria, and I have known it for many days, as is natural. Maria is almost my daughter, and I should have nothing to observe, if your age and position allowed us to think of a marriage; but they do not, and Maria is very young. These are not only the obstacles which present themselves; there is one perhaps insuperable, and it is my duty to speak to you of it. Mary may drag you and us with you into a lamentable misfortune of which she is threatened. Dr. Mayn dares almost to assure that she will die young of the same malady to which her mother succumbed: what she suffered yesterday is an epileptic syncope, which, taking increase at every access, will terminate in an epilepsy of the worst character known: so says the doctor. You answer now, with much thought, a single question; answer it like the rational man and gentleman that you are; and let not your answer be dictated by an exaltation foreign to your character, when it is a question of your future and that of your own. You know the doctor's opinion, an opinion that deserves respect because it is Mayn who gives it; the fate of Solomon's wife is known to you: if we consented to it, would you marry Mary to-day?
–Yes,
