with him, the good
God knows--to refuse him, to forget him, to keep to my duty if my 
broke in the keeping. He had a horse and carriage waiting, and--to this
day I hardly know how--he made me enter it, and drove me off. I cried
out for help; it was too late; no one heard me. He soothed me with his
specious promises, and perhaps I was not difficult to soothe. It was too
late to go back; I thought he loved me and went on. He took me to
Boston. There, next morning in the hotel, without witnesses, we were
married. A man, a clergyman, he told me, came, a ceremony of some sort
was gone through, we were pronounced man and wife.

"He took me with him to a cottage he had engaged by the sea shore. For
three weeks he remained with me there, tired to death of me, I know now.
Then he was summoned to New York to his home, and I was left. Mr. Darcy,
he never came back.

"I waited for him weeks and weeks--ah, dear Heaven! what weeks those
were. Then the truth was told me. His uncle'