permitted friendship and intimacy, to say what is uppermost in my
thoughts; but we spendthrifts are provokingly handsome! Sir Miles, your
good uncle, is pleased to forgive all my follies and faults upon one
condition,--that you will take on yourself the task to reform me. Will
you, my fair cousin? Such as I am, you behold me. I am no sinner in the
disguise of a saint. My fortune is spent, my health is not strong; but a
young widow's is no mournful position. I am gay when I am well, good-
tempered when ailing. I never betrayed a trust,--can you trust me with
yourself?"

This was a long speech, and Charley Vernon felt pleased that it was over.
There was much in it that would have touched a heart even closed to him,
and a little genuine emotion had given light to his eyes, and color to
his cheek. Amidst all the ravages of dissipation, there was something
interesting in his countenance, and manly in his tone and his gesture.
But Lucretia was only sensible to one part of his confession,--her uncle
consented to his suit. This was all of which she desired to be assured,
and against this she now sought to screen herself.

"Your candour, Mr. Vernon," she said, avoiding his eye, "deserves candour
in me; I cannot affect to misunderstand you. But you take me by
surprise; I was so unprepared for this. Give me time,--I must reflect."

"Reflection is dull work in the country; you can reflect more amusingly
in town, my fair cousin."

"I will wait, then, till I find myself in town."

"Ah, you make me the happiest, the most grateful of men," cried Mr.
Vernon, rising, with a semi-genuflection which seemed to imply, "Consider