forward course to pursue with a girl of her age
—she was barely sixteen. Not that he anticipated
any difficulty on Mr. Wilkins's part; his approval
of the intimacy which at their respective
ages was pretty sure to lead to an attachment,
was made as evident as could be by actions without
words. But there would have to be reference
to his own father, who had no notion of the whole
affair, and would be sure to treat it as a boyish
fancy; as if at twenty-one Ralph was not a man,
as clear and deliberative in knowing his own
mind, as resolute as he ever would be in deciding
upon the course of exertion that should lead him
to independence and fame, if such were to be
attained by clear intellect and a strong will.

No; to Mr. Wilkins he would not speak for
another year or two.

But should he tell Ellinor in direct terms of
his love—his intention to marry her?

Again he inclined to the more prudent course
of silence. He was not afraid of any change in
his own inclinations: of them he was sure. But
he looked upon it in this way: If he made a
regular declaration to her she would be bound
to tell it to her father. He should not respect
her or like her so much if she did not. And yet
this course would lead to all the conversations,
and discussions, and references to his own father,
which made his own direct appeal to Mr. Wilkins
appear a premature step to him.

Whereas he was as sure of Ellinor's love for
him as if she had uttered all the vows that
women ever spoke; he knew even better than
she did how fully and entirely that innocent
girlish heart was his own. He was too proud
to dread her inconstancy for an instant; "besides,"
as he went on to himself, as if to make
assurance doubly sure, "whom does she see?
Those stupid Holsters, who ought to be only too
proud of having such a girl for their cousin,
ignore her existence, and spoke slightingly of
her father only the very last time I dined there.
The country people in this preciously BÅ“otian
——shire clutch at me because my father goes
up to the Plantagenets for his pedigree—not one
whit for myself—and neglect Ellinor; and only
condescend to her father because old Wilkins
was nobody-knows-who's son.   So much the
worse for them, but so much the better for me
in this case. I'm above their silly antiquated
prejudices, and shall be only too glad when the
fitting time comes to make Ellinor my wife.
After all, a prosperous attorney's daughter may
not be considered an unsuitable match for me—
younger son as I am. Ellinor will make a glorious
woman three or four years hence; just the
style my father admires—such a figure, such
limbs. I'll be patient and bide my time, and
watch my opportunities, and all will come
right."

So he bade Ellinor farewell in a most reluctant
and affectionate manner, although his
words might have been spoken out in Hamley
market-place, and were little different from
what he said to Miss Monro. Mr. Wilkins
half expected a disclosure to himself of the
love which he suspected in the young man; and
when that did not come, he prepared himself
for a confidence from Ellinor. But she had nothing
to tell him, as he very well perceived from
the child's open unembarrassed manner when
they were left alone together after dinner. He
had refused an invitation, and shaken off Mr.
Ness, in order to have this confidential tête-à-tête
with his motherless girl; and there was nothing
to make confidence of. He was half
inclined to be angry; but then he saw that,
although sad, she was so much at peace with
herself and with the world, that he, always an
optimist, began to think the young man had
done wisely in not tearing open the rosebud of
her feelings too prematurely.

The next two years passed over in much the
same way—or a careless spectator might have
thought so. I have heard people say, that if
you look at a regiment advancing with steady
step over a plain on a review-day, you can
hardly tell that they are not merely marking
time on one spot of ground unless you compare
their position with some other object by which
to mark their progress, so even is the repetition
of the movement. And thus the sad events of
the future life of this father and daughter were
hardly perceived in their steady advance, and
yet over the monotony and flat uniformity of
their days sorrow came marching down upon
them like an armed man. Long before Mr.
Wilkins had recognised its shape it was
approaching him in the distance—as in fact it is
approaching all of us at this very time—you,
reader, I, writer, have each our great sorrow
bearing down upon us. He may be yet beyond
the dimmest point of our horizon, but in the
stillness of the night our hearts shrink at the
sound of his coming footstep. Well is it for
those who fall into the hands of the Lord
rather than into the hands of men; but worst
of all is it for him who has hereafter to mingle
the gall of remorse with the cup held out to him
by his doom.

Mr. Wilkins took his ease and his pleasure yet
more and more every year of his life; nor did the
quality of his ease and his pleasure improve; it
seldom does with self-indulgent people. He
cared less for any books that strained his faculties
a little,—less for engravings and sculpture,
—perhaps more for pictures. He spent
extravagantly on his horses; " thought of eating
and drinking." There was no open vice in all
this, so that any awful temptation to crime
should come down upon him, and startle him
out of his mode of thinking and living; half the
people about him did much the same, as far as
their lives were patent to his unreflecting
observation. But most of his associates had
their duties to do, and did them with a heart and
a will, in the hours when he was not in their
company. Yes! I call them duties, though
some of them might be self-imposed and purely
social; they were engagements they had entered
into, either tacitly or with words, and that they
fulfilled. From Mr. Hetherington, the Master