tion which I should never have
enjoyed at Cadurcis; and although my lot either way could not have
altered the nature of things, I might have been discontented, I might
have sighed for a world which now I do not value. It is true I have
not seen Venetia for five years, but I find her the same, or changed
only by nature, and fulfilling all the rich promise which her
childhood intimated. No, my dear Doctor, I respect your opinion more
than that of any man living; but nobody, nothing, can persuade me that
I am not as intimately acquainted with Venetia's character, with all
her rare virtues, as if we had never separated.'

'I do not doubt it,' said the Doctor; 'high as you may pitch your
estimate you cannot overvalue her.'

'Then why should we not marry?'

'Because, my dear friend, although you may be perfectly acquainted
with Venetia, you cannot be perfectly acquainted with yourself.'

'How so?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis in a tone of surprise, perhaps a
little indignant.

'Because it is impossible. No young man of eighteen ever possessed
such precious knowledge. I esteem and admire you; I give you every
credit for a good heart and a sound head; but it is impossible, at
your time of life, that your character can be formed; and, until it
be, you may marry Venetia and yet be a very miserable man.'

'It is formed,' said his lordship firmly; 'there is not a subject
important to a human being on which my opinions are not settled.'

'You may live to change them all,' said the Doctor, 'and that very
speedily.'

'Impossible!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'My dear Doctor, I cannot understand
you; you say that you hope, that you wish, even that you believe that
I shall marry Venetia; and yet you permit me to infer that our union
will only make us miserable. What do you wish me to do?'

'Go to college for a term or two.'

'Without Venetia! I should die.'

'Well, if you be in a dying state you can return.'

'You joke, my dear Doctor.'

'My dear boy, I am perfectly serious.'

'But she may marry somebody else?'

'I am your only rival,' said the Doctor, with a smile; 'and though
even friends can scarcely be trusted under such circumstances, I
promise you not to betray you.'

'Your advice is not very pleasant,' said his lordship.

'Good advice seldom is,' said the Doctor.

'My dear Doctor, I have made up my mind to marry her, and marry her at
once. I know her well, you admit that yourself. I do not believe that
there ever was a