Ere I read, and while I read, my heart did more
than throb--it trembled fast--every quiver seemed like the pant of an
animal athirst, laid down at a well and drinking; and the well proved
quite full, gloriously clear; it rose up munificently of its own
impulse; I saw the sun through its gush, and not a mote, Lucy, no moss,
no insect, no atom in the thrice-refined golden gurgle.

"Life," she went on, "is said to be full of pain to some. I have read
biographies where the wayfarer seemed to journey on from suffering to
suffering; where Hope flew before him fast, never alighting so near, or
lingering so long, as to give his hand a chance of one realizing grasp.
I have read of those who sowed in tears, and whose harvest, so far from
being reaped in joy, perished by untimely blight, or was borne off by
sudden whirlwind; and, alas! some of these met the winter with empty
garners, and died of utter want in the darkest and coldest of the year."

"Was it their fault, Paulina, that they of whom you speak thus died?"

"Not always their fault. Some of them were good endeavouring people. I
am not endeavouring, nor actively good, yet God has caused me to grow
in sun, due moisture, and safe protection, sheltered, fostered, taught,
by my dear father; and now--now--another comes. Graham loves me."

For some minutes we both paused on this climax.

"Does your father know?" I inquired, in a low voice.

"Graham spoke with deep respect of papa, but implied that he dared not
approach that quarter as yet; he must first prove his worth: he added
that he must have some light respecting myself and my own feelings ere
he ventured to risk a step in the matter elsewhere."

"How did you reply?"

"I replied briefly, but I did not repulse him. Yet I almost trembled
for fear of making the answer too cordial: Graham's tastes are so
fastidious. I wrote it three times--chastening and subduing the phrases
at every rescript; at last, having confected it till it seemed to me to
resemble a morsel of ice flavoured with ever so slight a zest of fruit
or sugar, I ventured to seal and despatch it."

"Excellent, Paulina! Your instinct is fine; you understand Dr. Bretton."

"But how must I manage about papa? There I am still in pain."

"Do not manage at all. Wait now. Only maintain no further
correspondence till your father knows all, and gives his sanction."

"Will he ever give it?"

"Time will show. Wait."

"Dr. Bretton wrote one other letter, deeply