He made no reference to our quarrel or to my sojourn in Prince Edward Island . He wrote that his firm was sending him to South Africa to take charge of their interests there . He would leave in three weeks ' time and could not return for five years . If I still cared anything for him , would I meet him in Halifax , marry him , and go to South Africa with him ? If I would not , he would understand that I had ceased to love him and that all was over between us . That , boiled down , was the gist of Mark 's letter . When I had read it I cast myself on the bed and wept out all the tears I had refused to let myself shed during my weeks of exile . For I could not do what Mark asked -- I could not . I could n't run away to be married in that desolate , unbefriended fashion . It would be a disgrace . I would feel ashamed of it all my life and be unhappy over it . I thought that Mark was rather unreasonable . He knew what my feelings about run-away marriages were . And was it absolutely necessary for him to go to South Africa ? Of course his father was behind it somewhere , but surely he could have got out of it if he had really tried . Well , if he went to South Africa he must go alone . But my heart would break . I cried the whole afternoon , cowering among my pillows . I never wanted to go out of that room again . I never wanted to see anybody again .
I hated the thought of facing Aunt Philippa with her cold eyes and her miserable stories that seemed to strip XXXXX of all beauty and love of all reality .
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