so to go on with various remarks; but it seemed difficult to begin.
Observing him, as he contemplated the road before us, grave and
abstracted, I recollected the difference between his age and mother's,
and wondered at my blindness, while I compared the old man of my
childhood, who existed for the express purpose of making money for the
support and pleasure of his family, and to accommodate all its whims,
with the man before me,--barely forty-eight, without a wrinkle in
his firm, ruddy face, and only an occasional white hair, in ambuscade
among his fair, curly locks. My exclusive right over him I felt
doubtful about. I gave my attention to the road also, and remarked
that I thought the season was late.

"Yes. Why didn't Somers come home with you?"

"I hardly know. The matter of the marriage was not settled, nor a plan
of spending a summer abroad."

"Will it suit him to vegetate in Surrey? Veronica will not leave
home."

"He has no ambition."

"It is a curse to inherit money in this country. Mr. Somers writes
that Ben will have three thousand a year; but that the disposal, at
present, is not in his power."

I explained as well as I could the Pickersgill property.

"I see how it is. The children are waiting for the principal, and have
exacted the income; and their lives have been warped for this reason.
Ben has not begun life yet. But I like Somers exceedingly."

"He is the best of them, his mother the worst."

"Did you have a passage?"

"She attempted."

"I can give Veronica nothing beyond new clothes or furniture; whatever
she likes that way. To draw money from my business is impossible. My
business fluctuates like quicksilver, and it is enormously extended.
If they should have two thousand a year, it would be a princely
income; I should feel so now, if they had it clear of incumbrance."

"Do you mean to say that your income does not amount to so much?"

"My outgoes and incomes have for a long time been involved with each
other. I do not separate them. I have never lived extravagantly. My
luxury has been in doing too much."

A cold feeling came over me.

"By the way, Mr. Somers pays you compliments in his note. How old are
you? I forget." He surveyed me with a doubtful look. Are you thin, or
what is it?"

"East wind, I guess. I am twenty-five."

"And Veronica?"

"Over twenty."

"She must be married. I hope she will cut her practical eye-teeth
then, for Somers's sake."

"He does not require a