"
Then she almost repented of her hasty decision to marry this night,
instead of after longer acquaintance, which Mr. Milburn, no doubt, would
have granted, and his words were remembered with accusation: "What will
the world say to your marriage after a single day's acquaintance with
me?" "Will this haste not be repented, or become a subject of reproach
to you?" Was it too late to recall her words, and ask for delay?
"No," thought Vesta, "I am to keep, at least, my mind maiden and chaste,
instead of playing the unstable coquette with that. I will not let him
begin to think me weak and changeful already."
To see if there was the least glimmer of relief from this marriage Vesta
crossed to her mother's room, and found Mrs. Custis with her head
wrapped in handkerchiefs steeped in cologne, and a vial of laudanum in
her hand, and in a condition bordering on hysteria.
"Mamma," said poor Vesta, "are you in pain?"
"Oh!" screamed Mrs. Custis, "I am just dying here of cruelty and
brutality. Your father is a villain. I'll have that rascal, Milburn,
killed. Go get me ink and paper, daughter, and sit here and write me a
letter to my brother, Allan McLane, in Baltimore. He shall settle with
Judge Custis for this robbery, and take you and me back to Baltimore,
leaving your father to go to the almshouse or the jail, I don't care
which."
"Mother," exclaimed Vesta, "what a sin! to abuse poor father now in all
his trouble!"
"Trouble!" echoed Mrs.
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