Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/104

I give you pain. I tell you, Dana Herwin—oh, but I cannot tell, I cannot tell you! You would not understand."

"Mother, I am not fit to be married, I am behaving so badly! If you were not a ghost, I think I should be a better girl—I should act like other girls. And you would teach me how. Mother, it is the holy truth that I packed my bag to-night and ran away. I took the train and went to town,—the late train,—and I meant to send him word that I would not marry anybody, for I could never do it.

"And when I got to town I was frightened at what I had done, for I thought it would trouble Father, and I came back again upon the midnight train alone; and it rained, for there is a southeaster, and I got off at the station, crying, in the wet. And, oh, Mother, there he stood—the Man! His face was white, and his hand shook, and he did not speak at all. He took me home, and in at the side door, and called Maggie, and told me to go up-stairs, and did not trouble me to try to kiss me; but he had such a look that I felt ashamed, and I thought you would be ashamed of me, Mother. So I confess to you. For I have promised that I will marry