"Love her, mother? Curses! would you drive me mad? I think and dream of
nothing but that girl: morning, noon, and night, her eyes persecute me:
go where I will, and do what I will, her image haunts me: d----n it,
mother' don't I love the girl?"

[Oh love, love! thou much-slandered monosyllable, how desperately do bad
men malign thee!]

"Hush, Julian; pray be more guarded in your language; I am glad to see
though that your heart is in the right place: suppose now that I aid
your suit a little? I dare say I could do a great deal for you, my son;
and nothing could be more delightful to your mother than to try and make
her Julian happy."

True, Mrs. Tracy; you were always theatrically given, and played the
coquette in youth; so in age the character of go-between befits you
still: dearly do you love to dabble in, what you are pleased to call,
"_une affaire du coeur_."

"Mother," after a pause, replied her hopeful progeny, "if the girl had
been only pretty, I shouldn't have asked any body's help; for marriage
was never to my liking, and folks may have their will of prouder
beauties than this Emily, without going to church for it; but money
makes it quite another matter: and I may as well have the benefit of
your assistance in this matter o' money, eh mother? matrimony, you know:
an heiress and a beauty may be worth the wedding-ring; besides, when my
commission comes, I can follow the good example that my parents set me,
you know; and, after a three months' honey-mooning, can turn bachelor
again for twenty years or so, as our governor-general did, and so leave