"Oh, yes, uncle!" I said, smiling; "I have reflected, and I have no fear
of the result. Before my father wrote, what he now suggests had become
my secret wish. As for our other companions, their simple natures would
defy all such sophistries as--But he is already half-cured of those.
Let him come with me, and when he returns he shall be worthy of a place
in your heart beside his sister Blanche. I feel, I promise it; do not
fear for me! Such a charge will be a talisman to myself. I will shun
every error that I might otherwise commit, so that he may have no
example to entice him to err."

I know that in youth, and the superstition of first love, we are
credulously inclined to believe that love and the possession of the
beloved are the only happiness. But when my uncle folded me in his arms
and called me the hope of his age and stay of his house,--the music of
my father's praise still ringing on my heart,--I do affirm that I knew a
prouder bliss than if Trevanion had placed Fanny's hand in mine and
said, "She is yours."

And now the die was cast, the decision made. It was with no regret that
I wrote to Trevanion to decline his offers. Nor was the sacrifice so
great--even putting aside the natural pride which had before inclined to
it--as it may seem to some; for restless though I was, I had labored to
constrain myself to other views of life than those which close the
vistas of ambition with images of the terrestrial deities, Power and
Rank. Had I not been behind the scenes, noted all of joy and of peace
that the pursuit of power had cost Trevanion, and seen how little of
happiness rank gave even to one of the polished habits and graceful
attributes of Lord Castleton? Yet each nature seemed fitted so well,--
the first for power, the last for rank! It is marvellous with what