"
"I shall never be married to him. How I shall escape from him--by dying,
or going mad, or by destroying him--God only knows." Then she paused, and
her aunt looking into her face almost began to fear that she was in
earnest. But she would not take it as at all indicating any real result
for the morrow. The girl had often said nearly the same thing before, and
had still submitted. "Do you know Aunt Jane, I don't think I could feel to
any man as though I loved him. But for this man--O God, how I do detest
him! I cannot do it."
"You had better go to bed, Lucinda, and let me come to you in the
morning."
"Yes; come to me in the morning, early."
"I will, at eight."
"I shall know then, perhaps."
"My dear, will you come to my room to-night and sleep with me?"
"Oh, no. I have ever so many things to do. I have papers to burn, and
things to put away. But come to me at eight. Goodnight, Aunt Jane." Mrs.
Carbuncle went up to her room with her, kissed her affectionately, and
then left her.
She was now really frightened. What would be said of her if she should
press the marriage forward to a completion, and if, after that, some
terrible tragedy should take place between the bride and bridegroom? That
Lucinda, in spite of all that had been said, would stand at the altar, and
allow the ceremony to be performed, she still believed.
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