Then she tore up
the piece of paper hastily, folded her letter and addressed it, without
sealing the envelope, and carried it into the other room.
"Read it mother," she said; and she turned to the window to conceal her
tear-stained face.
The mother opened the letter and glanced at it.
"You forget, child," she said. "I know so little English. Tell me what
it is you have written."
So she was forced to turn; and apparently, as she spoke, she was quite
calm; but there was a darkness underneath her eyes, and there was in her
look something of the worn, sad expression of her mother's face. Briefly
and simply she repeated the substance of the letter, giving no reasons
or justifications. She seemed to take it for granted that her decision
was unavoidable, and would be seen to be so by every one.
"Natalushka," the mother said, looking anxiously at the troubled face,
"do you know what you are about to do? It is an act of expiation for
something you have not committed."
"Could I do otherwise?" she said. "You, mother: would you have me think
of a marriage procured through my father's death? It is too horrible!"
The mother went to her, and took her two hands.
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