vocate; for, while I would lay down my life
to secure his happiness, I cannot bring myself to urge, for his sake,
what might be unfair or ungenerous to exact from another.

"'Though my son's account of your niece leaves us nothing more to ask or
wish for in a daughter, I am writing in ignorance of many things I would
like to know. Has she, for instance, the energy of character that would
face a new life in a new and far away land? Has she courage--has she
health for it? My wife is not pleased at my stating all these reasons
for doubt; but I am determined you shall know the worst of our case from
ourselves, and discover no blot we have not prepared you for.'" Calvert
mattered something here, but too inaudibly to be heard, and went on
reading: "'When I think that poor Joe's whole happiness will depend on
what decision your next letter will bring, I have only to pray that
it may be such as will conduce to the welfare of those we both love so
dearly I cannot ask you to make what are called 'sacrifices' for us: but
I entreat you let the consideration of affection weigh with you, not
less than that of worldly interests, and also to believe that when one
has to take a decision which is to influence a lifetime, it is as safe
to take counsel from the heart as from the head--from the nature that is
to feel, as from the intellect that is to plan.'

"I think I have read enough of this," said Calvert, impatiently. "I know
the old gent's brief perfectly. It's the old story: first gain a girl's
affections, and let her friends squabble, if they dare, about the
settlements. He's an artful old boy, that vicar! but I like him, on the
whole, better than his son, for though he does plead in forma pauperis,
he has the fairness to say so."

"You are very severe, Mr. Calvert. I hope you are too severe," said the
old lady, in some agitation.

"And what answer are you going to give him?" asked he, curtly.

"That is exactly the point on which I want your advice; for though
I know well you are no friend to young Loyd, I believe you to be our
sincere well-wisher, and that your judgment will be guided by the honest
feelings of regard for us."

Without deigning to notice this speech, he arose and walked up and
down the room apparently deep in thought He stopped at last, and said,
abruptly, "I don't presume to dictate to you in this business; but if I
were the young lady's guardian, and got such a letter as this, my reply
would be a very brief o