Before Algernon reached the humble abode that contained his earthly
treasure, his buoyant mind had decided upon the best course to pursue.
The sale of his mother's jewels would purchase a commission in the East
India Company's service. To India, therefore, he determined to go; and
he flattered himself that, before the expiration of ten years, he would
return with an independent fortune to claim his bride. It was a long
period in perspective, but Elinor was in the early bloom of youth, and
her charms would scarcely have reached maturity when he hoped again to
revisit his native land. The bitterest pang was yet to come. He must
inform her of his father's unjust bequeathment of all his property to
his brother, and of his own determination to seek his fortune in the
East. He must bid the idol of his soul adieu, for a period which, to the
imagination of a lover, almost involved eternity. Alas for the fond
hearts and the warm hopes of youth! How could they bear the annihilation
of all the delightful anticipations which they had formed of future
enjoyment?

Elinor had not seen Algernon since his return to the Hall. She ran down
the little path which led to the road to meet him, and the next moment
was in his arms. Algernon could not restrain his feelings as he clasped
her to his heart; he burst into tears.

"You have had a great loss, my Algernon; I will not chide these tears.
The death of a kind parent leaves an awful blank in our existence, a
wound which time alone can heal."

"His death, Elinor, has not cost me a single tear."

"Then why this grief?"