would do so joyfully," Mr. Sinclair replied,
"yet I cannot conceal from you now that I grieve to know that my
daughter must wear out her youth in a hope long deferred at best,
perhaps never to be realized."

Both gentlemen were for a few minutes plunged in silent thought. Captain
Percy arose from his seat--walked several times across the room, and
then stopping before the table at which Mr. Sinclair was seated, resumed
the conversation.

"Had I designedly sought the interest with which your daughter has
honored me," he said, "your words would inflict on me intolerable
self-reproach, but I cannot blame myself for not being silent when
silence would have been a reproach to her delicacy and a libel on my own
affection. Now, however, sir, I yield myself wholly to your cooler
judgment and better knowledge of her nature, and I will do whatever may
in your opinion conduce to her happiness, without respect to my own
feelings. If you think that she can forget the past, and you desire that
she should"--his voice lost its firmness and he grasped with violence
the chair on which he leaned--"I will do nothing to recall it to her
memory. It is the only _amende_ I can make for the shadow I have thrown
upon her life--dark indeed will such a resolve leave my own."

"It would cast no ray of light on hers. Be assured her love is not a
thing to be forgotten--it is a part of her life."

"And it shall be repaid with all of mine which my duties as a soldier
and subject leave at my disposal. Do not think me altogether selfish
when I say that your words have left no place in my heart for any thing
but happiness--I have but one thing more to ask you--it is a great
favor--inexpressibly great--but----"

"Nay--nay," Mr. Sinclair exclaimed, gathering his meaning more from his
looks and manner than from the words which fell slowly from his
lips--"ask me not so soon to put the irrevocable seal upon a bond which
may be one of misery."

"If your words be true--if her love be a part of her life, the
irrevocable seal has been already affixed by Heaven, and I only ask you
to give your sanction to it, that by uniting her duty and her love, you
may save her gentle spirit all contest with itself, and give her the
fairest hope of future joy."

It was now Mr. Sinclair's turn to rise and pace the floor in agitated
silence--"I know not how to decide so suddenly on so momentous a
question," he at length exclaimed.

"Suppose you leave its decision to her