"I could bear all," she
cried; "but what will become of my children? Of this child," pointing to
the fainting Ann, "whose constitution is already undermined by care and
grief--where will she go?"--Mary's heart ceased to beat while she asked
the question--She attempted to speak; but the inarticulate sounds died
away. Before she had recovered herself, her father called himself to
enquire for her; and desired her instantly to accompany him home.
Engrossed by the scene of misery she had been witness to, she walked
silently by his side, when he roused her out of her reverie by telling
her that in all likelihood her mother had not many hours to live; and
before she could return him any answer, informed her that they had both
determined to marry her to Charles, his friend's son; he added, the
ceremony was to be performed directly, that her mother might be witness
of it; for such a desire she had expressed with childish eagerness.
Overwhelmed by this intelligence, Mary rolled her eyes about, then, with
a vacant stare, fixed them on her father's face; but they were no longer
a sense; they conveyed no ideas to the brain.
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