lightful, way: and, previously to that important
_tete-a-tete_, however much he may have thought of only dear
Maria--however frequently he found himself beside her in the circle of
their many mutual friends--however happily he hoped for her
love--however foolishly he reveried about her kindness in the solitude
of his Temple garret--still he never yet had seen occasion to screw his
courage to the sticking point, and boldly place his bliss at hard Sir
Thomas's disposal. Some day--not yet--perhaps next week, at any rate not
exactly to-day--these were his natural excuses; and they availed him
even to the other side of that social Rubicon, engagement. Nevertheless,
now at length something must decidedly be done; and, within half an
hour, Finsbury's deserted square echoed to the heroic knock of Mr. Henry
Clements, fully determined upon claiming his Maria at her father's
hands.

The knight was out; probably, or rather certainly, not yet returned from
his counting-house in St. Benet's Sherehog. So, perforce, our hero could
only have an audience with his lady.

The same glossing over of unpalatable truths--the same quiet-breathing
counsel--the same tranquil sort of hopefulness--fully satisfied the
lover that his cause was gained. How could he think otherwise? In the
father's absence, he had broached that mighty topic to the mother, who
even now hailed him as her son, and promised him his father's favour.
What could be more delicious than all this? and what more honourable,
while prudent, too, and filial, than to acquiesce in Lady Dillaway's
fears about her husband's nervousness at the sight of one who was to
take from him an only and beloved daughter? It was delicacy
itself--charming; and Henry determined to make his presence, for the
first few days, as scarce as possible in the sight of that affectionate
father.

And thus it came to pass that two open and most honourable minds,
pledged to heartiest love, could not find one speck of sin in loving on
clandestinely. Nay, was it clandestine at all? Is it, then, merely a
legal fiction, and not a religious truth, that husband and wife are one?
and is it not quite as much a matrimonial as a moral one that father and
mother are so too? Was it not decidedly enough to have spoken to the
latter, especially when she undertook to answer for the former? Sir
Thomas was a man engrossed in business; and, doubtless, left such
affairs of the Heart to the kinder keeping of Lady Dillaway. No; th