rt of stupid fellow, as Louis said, who
would be quite indifferent as to any marriage that his cousin might
make. No man could be more independent or more clearly justified in
pleasing himself than was this lover. And then he himself proposed
that the second daughter, Nora, should come and live with them in
London. What a lover to fall suddenly from the heavens into such a
dovecote!

"I haven't a penny-piece to give to either of them," said Sir Rowley.

"It is my idea that girls should not have fortunes," said Trevelyan.
"At any rate, I am quite sure that men should never look for money.
A man must be more comfortable, and, I think, is likely to be more
affectionate, when the money has belonged to himself."

Sir Rowley was a high-minded gentleman, who would have liked to have
handed over a few thousand pounds on giving up his daughters; but,
having no thousands of pounds to hand over, he could not but admire
the principles of his proposed son-in-law. As it was about time for
him to have his leave of absence, he and sundry of the girls went to
England with Mr. Trevelyan, and the wedding was celebrated in London
by the Rev. Oliphant Outhouse, of Saint Diddulph-in-the-East, who
had married Sir Rowley's sister. Then a small house was taken and
furnished in Curzon Street, Mayfair, and the Rowleys went back to the
seat of their government, leaving Nora, the second girl, in charge of
her elder sister.

The Rowleys had found, on reaching London, that they had lighted upon
a pearl indeed. Louis Trevelyan was a man of whom all people said
all good things. He might have been a fellow of his college had he
not been a man of fortune. He might already,--so Sir Rowley was
told,--have been in Parliament, had he not thought it to be wiser to
wait awhile. Indeed, he was very wise in many things. He had gone
out on his travels thus young,--not in search of excitement, to kill
beasts, or to encounter he knew not what novelty and amusement,--but
that he might see men and know the world. He had been on his travels
for more than a year when the winds blew him to the Mandarins. Oh,
how blessed were the winds! And, moreover, Sir Rowley found that his
son-in-law was well spoken of at the clubs by those who had known him
during his university career, as a man popular as well as wise, not
a book-worm, or a dry philosopher, or a prig. He could talk on all
subjects, was very generous, a man sure to be honoured and respected;
and then such a han