t to peculiar sympathy in woe. He had unhappily found that the
ardour which had hurried him to vindicate the reputation of Rebecca was
likely to deprive him of the blessing of her ever becoming his proved an
offender instead of his wife; for the dean, chagrined that his son was at
length nephew, submitted to the temptation of punishing the latter, while
he forgave the former. He sent for Henry, and having coldly
congratulated him on his and Rebecca's innocence, represented to him the
impropriety of marrying the daughter of a poor curate, and laid his
commands on him, "never to harbour such an intention more." Henry found
this restriction so severe that he would not promise obedience; but on
his next attempt to visit Rebecca he met a positive repulse from her
father, who signified to him, "that the dean had forbidden him to permit
their farther acquaintance;" and the curate declared "that, for his own
part, he had no will, judgment, or faculties, but that he submitted in
all things to the superior clergy."

At the very time young Henry had received the proposal from Mr. Rymer of
his immediate union with his daughter, and the dean had made no objection
Henry waived the happiness for the time present, and had given a reason
why he wished it postponed. The reason he then gave had its weight; but
he had another concealed, of yet more import. Much as he loved, and
looked forward with rapture to that time when every morning, every
evening, and all the day, he should have the delight of Rebecca's
society, still there was one other wish nearer his heart than this one
desire which for years had been foremost in his thoughts, and which not
even love could eradicate. He longed, he pined to know what fate had
befallen his father. Provided he were living, he could conceive no joy
so great as that of seeing him! If he were dead, he was anxious to pay
the tribute of filial piety he owed, by satisfying his affectionate
curiosity in every circumstance of the sad event.

While a boy he had frequently expressed these sentiments to both his
uncle and his cousin; sometimes they apprised him of the total
improbability of accomplishing his wishes; at other times, when they saw
the disappointment weigh heavy on his mind, they bade him "wait till he
was a man before he could hope to put his designs in execution." He did
wait. But on the very day he arrived at the age of twenty-one, he made a
vow--"that to gain intelligence of his fathe