studied her from her childhood. She is capable of any error in judgment,
if it be made to appear a martyr's devoted self-sacrifice. You may well
shudder, my dear cousin. But grant that she were swayed by us and by the
argument that so to act would betray and kill her beloved grandfather,
still, in resisting this ruffian's paternal authority, what violent and
painful scenes might ensue! What dreadful publicity to be attached for
ever to her name! Nor is this all. Grant that her father does not
discover her, but that he is led by his associates into some criminal
offence, and suffers by the law--her relationship, both to him from whom
you would guard her, and to him whose hearth you have so tenderly reared
her to grace, suddenly dragged to day--would not the shame kill her? And
in that disclosure how keen would be the anguish of Darrell!"

"Oh, heavens!" cried Caroline Montfort, white as ashes and wringing her
hands, "you freeze me with terror. But this man cannot be so fallen as
you describe. I have seen him--spoken with him in his youth--hoped then
to assist in a task of conciliation, pardon. Nothing about him then
foreboded so fearful a corruption. He might be vain, extravagant,
selfish, false--Ah, yes! he was false indeed! but still the ruffian you
paint, banded with common criminals, cannot be the same as the gay,
dainty, perfumed, fair-faced adventurer with whom my ill-fated playmate
fled her father's house. You shake your head--what is it you advise?"

"To expedite your own project--to make at once the resolute attempt to
secure to this poor child her best, her most rightful protector--to let
whatever can be done to guard her from danger or reclaim her father from
courses to which despair may be driving him--to let, I say, all this be
done by the person whose interest in doing it effectively is so
paramount--whose ability to judge of and decide on the wisest means is so
immeasurably superior to all that lies within our own limited experience