having been absorbed, as it were, into the
source from which they came, by the feverish heat of her brain.

"It is enough, papa," she said; "I am willing to see him--willing to see
him whenever you wish. I am in your hands, and neither you nor he need
apprehend any further opposition from me."

"You are a good girl, Lucy; and you may believe me again that this
admirable conduct of yours will have its reward in a long life of future
happiness."

"Future happiness, papa," she replied, with a peculiar emphasis on the
word; "I hope so. May I withdraw, sir?"

"You may, my dear child. God bless and reward you, Lucy. It is to your
duty I owe it that I am a living man--that you have a father."

When she had gone, he sat down to his desk, and without losing a moment
sent a note to Dunroe, of which the following is a copy:

"My dear Lord Dunroe,--I am happy to tell you that Lucy is getting on
famously.

"Of course you know, I suppose, that these vaporish affections are, with
most young girls, nothing but the performance of the part which they
choose to act before marriage; the mere mists of the morning, poor
wenches, which only prognosticate for themselves and their husbands an
unclouded day. All this make-believe is very natural; and it is a good
joke, besides, to see them pout and look grave, and whine and cry, and
sometimes do the hysteric, whilst they are all the time dying in secret,
the hypocritical baggages, to get themselves transformed into matrons.
Don't, therefore, be a whit surprised or alarmed if you find Miss Lucy
in the pout--she is only a girl, after all, and has her little part
to play, as well as the best of them. Still, such a change is often in
reality a serious one to a young woman; and you need not be told that
no animal will allow itself to be caught without an effort. When you see
her, therefore, pluck up your spirits, rattle away, laugh and jest, so
as, if possible, to get her into good humor, and there is no danger of
you. Or stay--I am wrong. Had you followed this advice, it would have
played the deuce with you. Don't be merry. On the contrary, pull a long
face--be grave and serious; and if you can imitate the manner of one of
those fellows who pass for young men of decided piety, you were nothing
but a made man. Have you a Bible? If you have, commit half-a-dozen texts
to memory, and intersperse them judiciously through your conversation.
Talk of the vanity of life, the comforts of religion, and