Susanna Moodie, born Strickland (6 December 1803 – 8 April 1885), was an English-born Canadian author who wrote about her experiences as a settler in Canada, which was a British colony at the time.
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“But, Dolly! father will never give his consent, you know that;” said a male voice behind the hawthorn hedge, that skirted the deep, sandy lane that led to Heath Farm. The tone, reproachful and irritating, in which this was spoken, was answered in a sweet, calm voice.
“Until he gives his consent, his frank, free consent, Gilbert, I cannot, and will not be your wife.”
“You are just as obstinate as the old man.”
“Ay, and as proud. But don’t think for a moment, Gilbert, that I blame your father. Were I in his place, I might think just as he thinks. If he has higher views for his son than a marriage with a nameless girl like me, his son should be the last to find fault. Don’t let love blind you to facts. Look them boldly in the face, as I do. I cannot forget what I am, and what I owe to your father. The happy life I have led here from a child, made me forgetful of the great debt until”—and here the calm voice faltered—“the reproaches of last night brought it all fresh to my mind, and I saw how ungrateful I had been to my benefactor, in giving the least encouragement to you.”
“Yes, I shall not soon forget the cruel insult he put upon you. It was mean and cowardly, to say the least of it. He might be proud to call you his daughter, and his daughter you shall be, in spite of him.”
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