The steps toward it were prosaic enough, save as his imagination brightened them.  An early friend of his dead father, a distinguished lawyer, wishing to further William’s advancement in life, gave him the opportunity of studying his profession with him,—­offering him, at the same time, a home in his own family.  From these slender materials William’s fancy built air-castles the most magnificent.  He would study assiduously; with such a prize in view, he fondly said, his patience would never weary.  He felt within himself the consciousness of talent; and talent and industry must succeed.  A bright career was before him,—­fame, fortune; and all were to be laid at my feet; all would be valueless, if not shared with me.

“Ah, William,” I asked, with a moment’s sorrowful doubt, “are you sure of that?  Are you certain that it is not fame you look forward so eagerly to possess, instead of me?”

“How dare you say such a thing?” he answered, sternly.  I did not mind the sternness; there was love behind it.

“And what am I to do while you are thus winning gold and glory?” I asked, at length.

“I will tell you, Juanita.  In the first place, you are not to waste your time and spirits in long, romantic reveries, and vain pining because we cannot be together.”

“Indeed, I will not!” was my quick reply, though I colored deeply.  I was ashamed that he thought me in danger of loving him too well.  “I know you think me foolish and sentimental; but I assure you I will try to be different, since you wish it.”

“That is my own dear girl!  You must go out,—­you must see people,—­you must enjoy yourself.  You must study, too; don’t let your mind rust because you are engaged.  It will be quite time enough for that when we are married.”

“You need not be afraid; I shall always wish to please you, William, and so I shall always endeavor to improve.”

“Good child!” he said, laughing.  “But you will not always be such an obedient infant, Juanita.  You will find out your power over me, and then you will want to exercise it, just for the pleasure of seeing me submit.  You will be despotic about the veriest trifles, only to show me that my will must bow to yours.”

“That will never be!  I have no will of my own, where you are concerned, William.  I only ask to know your wishes, that I may perform them.”

“Is that indeed so?” he said, with a new tenderness of manner.  “I am very glad; for, to tell the truth, my love, I fear I should have little patience with womanish caprices.  I have reasons always for what I do and for what I require, and I could not long love any one who opposed them.”

Again I assured him that he need feel no such dread.  How happy we were!—­yes, I believe he loved me enough then to be happy, even as I was.

It was so late before we thought of going in, that a messenger was sent to seek us, and many a fine jest we had to encounter when we reached the drawing-room.