gain, as if you had a pain in your stomach; you
would try the patience of Job! Why, I don't believe there is another
man on earth that would not be wild with joy at the mere thought of
having gained such a prize. A beautiful creature, with a heart of gold
and a purse of gold to boot."

"Oh, heavens, aunt!" interrupted the man, passionately, "leave that
question out of the reckoning. The one thing, the only thing, to
consider is _her_ happiness. You cannot make me believe it can be for
her happiness that she should marry such as me."

"And why shouldn't it be for her happiness?" answered the dauntless
old lady. "Was not she happy enough with you here in this God-forsaken
hole, with nothing but the tempest besides for company? Why should not
she be happy, then, when you come back to your own good place? Would
not you be _kind_ to her?--would not you cherish her if she were your
wife?"

"Would I not be kind to her?--would I not cherish her?--would I
not----? My God!"

"Why, Adrian," cried Tanty, charmed at this unexpected disclosure of
feeling and the accent with which it was delivered, "I declare you are
as much in love with the girl as she is with you. Why, now you shall
just come back with me to Pulwick this moment, and she shall tell you
herself if she can find happiness with you or not. Oh--I will hear no
more--your own heart, your feelings as a gentleman, as a man of
honour, all point, my dear nephew, in the same direction. And if you
neglect this warning voice you will be blind indeed to the call of
duty. Come now, come back to your home, where the sweetest wife ever a
man had awaits you. And when I shall see the children spring up around
you, Adrian, then God will have granted my last wish, and I shall die
in peace.... There, there, I am an old fool, but when the heart is
over full, then the tears fall. Come, Adrian, come, I'll say no more;
but the sight of the poor child who loves you shall plead for her
happiness and yours. And hark, a word in your ear: let Rupert bark and
snarl as he will! And what sort of a devil is it your generosity has
made of _him_? You have done a bad day's work there all these years,
but, please God, there are better times dawning for us all.--What are
you doing, Adrian? Oh! writing a few orders to your servant to explain
your departure with me--quite right, quite right, I won't speak a word
then to interrupt you. Dear me! I really feel quite in spirits. Once
dear Molly and you settl