would sooner have remained at the Lion d'Or, and have waited upon
the guests day after day, and month after month. But yet she had
supposed 'that it had better be so.' Her uncle wished it,--wished
it so strongly that she believed it would be impossible that she
could remain an inmate in his house, unless she acceded to his
wishes. Her aunt manifestly thought that it was her duty to accept
the man, and could not understand how so manifest a duty, going hand
in hand as it did with so great an advantage, should be made a
matter of doubt. She had not one about her to counsel her to hold
by her own feelings. It was the practice of the world around her
that girls in such matters should do as they were bidden. And then,
stronger than all, there was the indifference to her of the man she
loved!

Marie Bromar was a fine, high-spirited, animated girl; but it must
not be thought that she was a highly educated lady, or that time had
been given to her amidst all her occupations, in which she could
allow her mind to dwell much on feelings of romance. Her life had
ever been practical, busy, and full of action. As is ever the case
with those who have to do chiefly with things material, she was
thinking more frequently of the outer wants of those around her,
than of the inner workings of her own heart and personal
intelligence. Would the bread rise well? Would that bargain she
had made for poultry suffice for the house? Was that lot of wine
which she had persuaded her uncle to buy of a creditable quality?
Were her efforts for increasing her uncle's profits compatible with
satisfaction on the part of her uncle's guests? Such were the
questions which from day to day occupied her attention and filled
her with interest. And therefore her own identity was not strong to
her, as it is strong to those whose business permits them to look