Yet the notion would not be at once dismissed.  His declaration that he would do anything to gratify his father had been too sincere for him lightly to turn from his suggestion, especially at a moment when he was full of shame at his own folly, and eagerness to retain the ground he had lost in his father’s opinion, and, above all, to make him happy.  His heart thrilled and glowed as he thought of giving his father real joy, and permanently brightening and enlivening that lonely, solitary life.  Besides, who could so well keep the peace between him and his father, and save him by hints and by helpfulness from giving annoyance?  He had already learnt to depend on her; she entered into all his interests, and was a most pleasant companion—­so wise and good, that the most satisfactory days of his life had been passed under her management, and he had only broken from it to ’play the fool.’  He was sick of his own volatile Quixotism, and could believe it a relief to be kept in order without trusting to his own judgment.  She had every right to his esteem and affection, and the warm feeling he had for her could only be strengthened by closer ties.  The unworldliness of the project likewise weighed with him.  Had she been a millionaire or a Duke’s daughter, he would not have spent one thought on the matter; but he was touched by seeing how his father’s better feelings had conquered all desire for fortune or connexion.

And then Mary could always find everything he wanted!

‘I will do it!’ he determined.  ’Never was son more bound to consider his father.  Of course, she will make a much better wife than I deserve.  Most likely, my fancies would never have been fulfilled.  She will save me from my own foolishness.  What ought a man to wish for more than a person sure to make him good?  And—­well, after all, it cannot be for a long time.  They must write to Lima.  Perhaps they will wait till her father’s return, or at least till I have taken my degree.’

This last encouraging reflection always wound up the series that perpetually recurred throughout that night of broken sleep; and when he rose in the morning, he felt as if each waking had added a year to his life, and looked at the glass to see whether he had not grown quite elderly.

’No, indeed!  I am ridiculously youthful, especially since I shaved off my moustache in my rage at the Yeomanry mania!  I must systematically burn my cheeks, to look anything near her age!’ And he laughed at himself, but ended with a long-drawn sigh.

He was in no state of mind to pause:  he was tired of self-debate, and was in haste to render the step irrevocable, and then fit himself to it; and he betook himself at once to the study, where he astonished his father by his commencement, with crimson cheeks—­’I wished to speak to you.  Last night I did not catch your meaning at once.’

‘We will say no more about it,’ was the kind answer.  ’If you cannot turn your thoughts in that direction, there is an end of the matter.’