declaration that George was nothing to her,--that she did not think
of him,--was in accordance with his own ideas. His wife had been
wrong. His wife was usually wrong when any headwork was required.
There could be no good reason why Marie Bromar should not marry
Adrian Urmand.

But Marie, as she knew very well, had never declared that George
Voss was nothing to her,--that he was forgotten, or that her heart
was free. He had gone from her and had forgotten her. She was
quite sure of that. And should she ever hear that he was married to
some one else,--as it was probable that she would hear some day,--
then she would be free again. Then she might take this man or that,
if her friends wished it--and if she could bring herself to endure
the proposed marriage. But at present her troth was plighted to
George Voss; and where her troth was given, there was her heart
also. She could understand that such a circumstance, affecting one
of so little importance as herself, should be nothing to a man like
her uncle; but it was everything to her. George had forgotten her,
and she had wept sorely over his want of constancy. But though
telling herself that this certainly was so, she had declared to
herself that she would never be untrue till her want of truth had
been put beyond the reach of doubt. Who does not know how hope
remains, when reason has declared that there is no longer ground for
hoping?

Such had been the state of her mind hitherto; but what would be the
good of entertaining hope, even if there were ground for hoping,
when, as was so evident, her uncle would never permit George and her
to be man and wife? And did she not owe everything to her uncle?
And was it not the duty of a girl to obey her guardian? Would not