He was a man of a restless and speculative turn of mind.
Inheriting his estate burdened with debt, his grand ambition was
to increase his small available income by his own exertions; to
set up an establishment in London; and to climb to political
distinction by the ladder of Parliament. An old friend, who had
emigrated to America, had proposed to him a speculation in
agriculture, in one of the Western States, which was to make both
their fortunes. My father's eccentric fancy was struck by the
idea. For more than a year past he had been away from us in the
United States; and all we knew of him (instructed by his letters)
was, that he might be shortly expected to return to us in the
enviable character of one of the richest men in England.

As for my poor mother--the sweetest and softest-hearted of
women--to see me happy was all that she desired.

The quaint little love romance of the two children amused and
interested her. She jested with Mary's father about the coming
union between the two families, without one serious thought of
the future--without even a foreboding of what might happen when
my father returned. "Sufficient for the day is the evil (or the
good) thereof," had been my mother's motto all her life. She
agreed with the easy philosophy of the bailiff, already recorded
in these pages: "They're only children. There's no call, poor
things, to part them yet a while."

There was one member of the family, however, who took a sensible
and serious view of the matter.

My father's brother paid us a visit in our solitude; discovered