The String of Pearls (1850), p. 43

"I will endeavour so to do. I have all the will, but Heaven knows if I may have the power."
"What mean you, Johanna?"
"I cannot tell what a week's anxiety may do; I know not but a sick bed may be my resting-place, until I exchange it for the tomb. I feel even now my strength fail me, and that I am scarcely able to totter to my home. Farewell, sir! I owe you my best thanks, as well for the trouble you have taken, as for the kindly manner in which you have detailed to me what has passed."
"Remember," said Colonel Jeffery, "that I bid you adieu, with the hope of meeting you again."
It was thus they parted, and Johanna proceeded to her father's house. Who now that had met her and- had chanced not to see that sweet face, which could never be forgotten, would have supposed her to be the once gay and sprightly Johanna Oakley? Her steps were sad and solemn, and all the juvenile elasticity of her frame seemed like one prepared for death ; and she hoped that she would be able to glide, silently and unobserved, to her own little bed-chamber—that chamber where she had slept since she was a child, and on the little couch, on which she had so often laid down to sleep that holy and calm slumber which such hearts
as hers can only know. But she was doomed to be disappointed, for the Rev. Mr. Lupin was still there, and as Mrs. Oakley had placed before that pious individual a great assortment of creature comforts, and among the rest some mulled wine, which seemed particularly to agree with him, he showed no disposition to
depart. It unfortunately happened that this wine, of which the reverend gentleman partook with such a holy relish, was kept in a cellar, and Mrs. Oakley had had
occasion twice to go down to procure a fresh supply, and it was on a third journey for the same purpose that she encountered poor Johanna, who had just let herself
in the private door.
"Oh! you have come home, have you?" said Mrs. Oakley; "I wonder where you have been to, gallivanting; but I suppose I may wonder long enough before you will tell me. Go into the parlour, I want to speak to you."
Now poor Johanna had quite forgotten the very existence of Mr. Lupin—so, rather than explain to her mother, which she knew would beget more questions, she wished to go to bed at once, notwithstanding it was an hour before the usual time for so doing, bhe walked unsuspectingly into the parlour, and as Mr. Lupin was sitting, the slightest movement of his chair closed the door, so she could not escape. Under any other circumstances probably Johanna would have insisted upon
leaving the apartment ; but a glance at the countenance of the pious individual was quite sufficient to convince her that he had been sacrificing sufficiently to
Bacchus to be capable of any amount of effrontery, so that she dreaded passing him, more especially as he swayed his arms about like the sails of a windmill.
She thought at least that when her mother returned she would rescue her; but in that hope she was mistaken, and Johanna had no more idea of the extent to which
religious fanaticism will carry its victim, than she had of the manners and customs of the inhabitants of the moon. When Mrs. Oakley did return, she had some
difficulty in getting into the apartment, inasmuch as Mr. Lupin's chair occupied so large a portion of it; but when she did obtain admission, and Johanna said—
"Mother, I beg of you to protect me against this man, and allow me a free passage from the apartment!"
Mrs. Oakley affected to lift up her hands in amusement, as she said—
"How dare you speak so disrespectfully of a chosen vessel? How dare you, I say, do such a thing—it's enough to drive any one mad to see the young girls now-adays!"
"Don't snub her—don't snub the virgin," said Mr. Lupin; she don't know the honour yet that's intended her."
"She don't deserve it," said Mrs. Oakley, "she don't deserve it."
"Never mind, madam—never mind; we—we—we don't get all what we deserve in this world."