there's only ruin left, and shame and disgust."

She spoke these words in such a sharp, ferocious voice that each of them
entered her mother's heart like a knife. Tears rose to the eyes of the
wretched woman, again stricken in her bleeding wound. Ah! it was true,
she remained without weapons against youth. And all her anguish came from
the consciousness that she was growing old, from the feeling that love
was departing from her now, that like a fruit she had ripened and fallen
from the tree.

"But Gerard's mother will never let him marry you," she said.

"He will prevail on her; that's his concern. I've a dowry of two
millions, and two millions can settle many things."

"Do you now want to libel him, and say that he's marrying you for your
money?"

"No, indeed! Gerard's a very nice and honest fellow. He loves me and he's
marrying me for myself. But, after all, he isn't rich; he still has no
assured position, although he's thirty-six; and there may well be some
advantage in a wife who brings you wealth as well as happiness. For, you
hear, mamma, it's happiness I'm bringing him, real happiness, love that's
shared and is certain of the future."

Once again their faces drew close together. The hateful scene,
interrupted by sounds around them, postponed, and then resumed, was
dragging on, becoming a perfect drama full of murderous violence,
although they never shouted, but still spoke on in low and gasping
voices. Neither gave way to the other, though at every moment they were