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"That's my sister's story, Mary," said the Reverend Mother after a
while, "and the moral of my own is the same, though the incidents are
different.
"I was now my father's only child and all his remaining hopes centred in
me. So he set himself to find a husband for me before the time came when
I should form an attachment for myself. His choice fell on a
middle-aged Roman noble of distinguished but impoverished family.
"'He has a great name; you will have a great fortune--what more do you
want?' said my father.
"We were back in Rome by this time, and there--at school or elsewhere--I
had formed the conviction that a girl must passionately love the man she
marries, and I did not love the Roman noble. I had also been led to
believe that a girl should be the first and only passion of the man who
marries her, and, young as I was, I knew that my middle-aged lover had
had other domestic relations.
"Consequently I demurred, but my father threatened and stormed, and
then, remembering my sister's fate, I pretended to agree, and I was
formally engaged.


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