it's more in your line than mine, more a good deal. And now let us
come to the business part of the transaction. All I have to say is
this:--if you agree to my proposals, then I agree to yours. I think
that's fair enough--Eh?"

"Quite fair, Mr. Sherwin."

"Just so. Now, in the first place, my daughter is too young to be
married yet. She was only seventeen last birthday."

"You astonish me! I should have imagined her three years older at
least."

"Everybody thinks her older than she is--everybody, my dear Sir--and
she certainly looks it. She's more formed, more developed I may say,
than most girls at her age. However, that's not the point. The plain
fact is, she's too young to be married now--too young in a moral point
of view; too young in an educational point of view; too young
altogether. Well: the upshot of this is, that I could not give my
consent to Margaret's marrying, until another year is out--say a year
from this time. One year's courtship for the finishing off of her
education, and the formation of her constitution--you understand me,
for the formation of her constitution."

A year to wait! At first, this seemed a long trial to endure, a trial
that ought not to be imposed on me. But the next moment, the delay
appeared in a different light. Would it not be the dearest of
privileges to be able to see Margaret, perhaps every day, perhaps for
hours at a time? Would it not be happiness enough to observe each
development of her character, to watch her first maiden love for me,