Mrs. Pope conceded the point. "And then, Marjorie----" she said.
"I'd keep my word, mother," said Marjorie, and began to sob in a manner
she felt to be absurdly childish--"until--until I am one-and-twenty. I'd
promise that."
Mrs. Pope did a brief calculation. "Marjorie," she said, "it's only your
happiness I think of."
"I know," said Marjorie, and added in a low voice, "and father."
"My dear, you don't understand your father.... I believe--I do firmly
believe--if anything happened to any of you girls--anything bad--he
would kill himself.... And I know he means that you aren't to go about
so much as you used to do, unless we have the most definite promises. Of
course, your father's ideas aren't always my ideas, Marjorie; but it's
your duty--You know how hasty he is and--quick. Just as you know how
good and generous and kind he is"--she caught Marjorie's eye, and added
a little lamely--"at bottom." ... She thought. "I think I could get him
to let you say just one word with Mr. Trafford. It would be very
difficult, but----"
She paused for a few seconds, and seemed to be thinking deeply.
"Marjorie," she said, "Mr. Magnet must never know anything of this."
"But, mother----!"
"Nothing!"
"I can't go on with my engagement!"
Mrs. Pope shook her head inscrutably.
"But how _can_ I, mother?"
"You need not tell him _why_, Marjorie."
"But----"
"Just think how it would humiliate and distress him! You _can't_,
Marjorie. You must find some excuse--oh, any excuse! But not the
truth--not the truth, Marjorie. It would be too dreadful."
Marjorie thought. "Look here, mother, I _may_ see Mr. Trafford again? I
_may_ really speak to him?"
"Haven't I promised?"
"Then, I'll do as you say," said Marjorie.