he always forgets
that he's not a young raven himself."

"Now you're only joking, mamma."

"Indeed I'm quite in earnest. But I think your papa means to make up
an income for you,--only you must not expect to be rich."

"I do not want to be rich. I never did."

"I suppose you will live in London, and then you can come down here
when the courts are up. I do hope he won't ever want to take a
situation in the colonies."

"Who, Felix? Why should he go to the colonies?"

"They always do,--the clever young barristers who marry before they
have made their way. That would be very dreadful. I really think it
would kill me."

"Oh! mamma, he sha'n't go to any colony."

"To be sure there are the county courts now, and they are better. I
suppose you wouldn't like to live at Leeds or Merthyr-Tydvil?"

"Of course I shall live wherever he goes; but I don't know why you
should send him to Merthyr-Tydvil."

"Those are the sort of places they do go to. There is young Mrs.
Bright Newdegate,--she had to go to South Shields, and her babies
are all dreadfully delicate. She lost two, you know. I do think the
Lord Chancellor ought to think about that. Reigate, or Maidstone, or
anywhere about Great Marlow would not be so bad." And in this way
they discussed the coming event and the happy future, while Felix
himself was listening to the judge's charge and thinking of his
client's guilt.

Then there were two or three days passed at Noningsby of almost
unalloyed sweetness. It seemed that they had all agreed that Prudence
should go by the board, and that Love with sweet promises, and hopes
bright as young trees in spring, should have it all her own way.
Judge Staveley was a man who on such an occasion--knowing with whom
he had to deal--could allow ordinary prudence to go by the board.
There are men, and excellent men too, from whose minds the cares
of life never banish themselves, who never seem to remember that
provision is made for the young ravens. They toil and spin always,
thinking sternly of the worst and rarely hoping for the best. They
are ever making provision for rainy days, as though there were to be
no more sunshine. So anxious are they for their children that they
take no pleasure in them, and their fear is constant that the earth
will cease to produce her fruits. Of such was not the judge. "Dulce
est desipere in locis," he would say, "and let the opportunities be
frequent and the occasions many." Such a love-making opport