invariably the last human being whom she seemed to consider; and no
sooner did she ascertain what measure was the most prudent for me to
adopt, than it immediately became that upon which she insisted. Would
it have been possible for me, man of pleasure and of the world as I was
thought to be,--no, my good uncle, though it went to my heart to wound
thee so secretly, it would /not/ have been possible for me, even if I
had not coined my whole nature into love, even if Isora had not been to
me what one smile of Isora's really was,--it would not have been
possible to have sacrificed so noble and so divine a heart, and made
myself, in that sacrifice, a wretch forever. No, my good uncle. I
could not have made that surrender to thy reason, much less to thy
prejudices. But if I have not done great injustice to the knight's
character, I doubt whether the youngest reader will not forgive him for
a want of sympathy with one feeling, when they consider how susceptible
that charming old man was to all others.

And herewith I could discourse most excellent wisdom upon that
mysterious passion of love. I could show, by tracing its causes, and
its inseparable connection with the imagination, that it is only in
certain states of society, as well as in certain periods of life, that
love--real, pure, high love--can be born. Yea, I could prove, to the
nicety of a very problem, that, in the court of Charles II., it would
have been as impossible for such a feeling to find root, as it would be
for myrtle trees to effloresce from a Duvillier periwig. And we are not
to expect a man, however tender and affectionate he may be, to
sympathize with that sentiment in another, which, from the accidents of
birth and position, nothing short of a miracle could have ever produced
in himself.

We were married then in private by a Catholic priest. St. John, and one