induce him to give his sanction to the marriage I have come to you to
propose."

"Bless my soul! this is carrying things rather far, though--dependent
as you are on him, and all that. Why, what on earth can we do--eh?"

"We must keep both the courtship and the marriage secret."

"Secret! Good gracious, I don't at all see my way--"

"Yes, secret--a profound secret among ourselves, until I can divulge
my marriage to my father, with the best chance of--"

"But I tell you, Sir, I can't see my way through it at all. Chance!
what chance would there be, after what you have told me?"

"There might be many chances. For instance, when the marriage was
solemnised, I might introduce your daughter to my father's
notice--without disclosing who she was--and leave her, gradually and
unsuspectedly, to win his affection and respect (as with her beauty,
elegance, and amiability, she could not fail to do), while I waited
until the occasion was ripe for confessing everything. Then if I said
to him, 'This young lady, who has so interested and delighted you, is
my wife;' do you think, with that powerful argument in my favour, he
could fail to give us his pardon? If, on the other hand, I could only
say, 'This young lady is about to become my wife,' his prejudices
would assuredly induce him to recall his most favourable impressions,
and refuse his consent. In short, Mr. Sherwin, before marriage, it
would be impossible to move him--after marriage, when opposition could
no longer be of any avail, it would be quite a different thing: we