not brought forward one rational objection, nor one argument beyond his interest. It appeared to him that she had allowed her imagination to gain an undue sway from the solitude in which she had lived. The idea of a marriage between himself and his cousin had been dwelt upon till it reigned paramount, and she could not even comprehend that there was another side to the question.
Impressed with this belief, he rose; and said to his mother, in a kind, but determined tone, "I will not now prolong an interview which so agitates you. Think over the subject, my dearest mother; and, after I have spoken to my uncle, I will return."
"Speak to your uncle! Stop!" exclaimed Mrs. Courtenaye, grasping his arm with a convulsive force, of which her thin white fingers did not seem capable; while her fine features were convulsed by some strong, though still suppressed emotion: "rash boy, you rush upon your fate! You shall not—must not leave this room to meet your uncle, unless it be to tell him that you marry his daughter."
