last like a blow which had been long impending, but of which
preparation had failed to lessen the weight.

'Ah!' said the Earl, when the chief part had been read to him, 'she
is admirable and excellent as ever. It is a great disappointment
that she is unattainable, but I am glad she writes so sensibly, and
sees that it is right you should think no more about her. After all,
the connexion with that fellow Ponsonby might have been very
troublesome, and it is well, as she says, that it was all over while
you are so young.'

'Young or old, there is no other Mary in the world,' said Louis,
sadly.

'We will say no more about it now. I understand you, but you will
think differently by-and-by.'

Louis did not answer. He knew that others might have been deceived
by the tardiness and uncertainty of his attachment, but that it had
taken such deep root, that he believed he could no more detach
himself from Mary than if she were his wife. His heart fainted as he
thought of years without the strength and soothing which her very
letter breathed forth; as he pictured to himself alternations between
his chill and stately home and the weary maze of London, foresaw
persuasions from his father to induce him to form some new
attachment, and dreaded to think of the facility with which, perhaps,
he might still be led out of his own convictions. Yet he still
believed that patience and perseverance would win the day, and tried
to derive encouragement and energy from the thought that this might
be a trial sent for the very purpose of training him in