‘I think,’ said Louis, ‘that I could.’

‘My dear boy,’ said the Earl, with more eagerness than he could quite control, ’you must not imagine that I wish to influence your inclinations unduly; but I must confess that what I have seen for the last few months, has convinced me that nothing could better secure your happiness.’

‘I believe so,’ said Louis, gazing from the window.

‘Right,’ cried the Earl, with more gladness and warmth than his son had ever seen in him; ’I am delighted that you appreciate such sterling excellence!  Yes, Louis,’ and his voice grew thick, ’there is nothing else to trust to.’

‘I know it,’ said Louis.  ’She is very good.  She made me very happy when I was ill.’

’You have seen her under the most favourable circumstances.  It is the only sort of acquaintance to be relied on.  You have consulted your own happiness far more than if you had allowed yourself to be attracted by mere showy gifts.’

‘I am sure she will do me a great deal of good,’ said Louis, still keeping his eyes fixed on the evergreens.

‘You could have done nothing to give me more pleasure!’ said the Earl, with heartfelt earnestness.  ’I know what she is, and what her mother has been to me.  That aunt of hers is a stiff, wrongheaded person, but she has brought her up well—­very well, and her mother has done the rest.  As to her father, that is a disadvantage; but, from what I hear, he is never likely to come home; and that is not to be weighed against what she is herself.  Poor Mary! how rejoiced she will be, that her daughter at least should no longer be under that man’s power!  It is well you have not been extravagant, like some young men, Louis.  If you had been running into debt, I should not have been able to gratify your wishes now; but the property is so nearly disencumbered, that you can perfectly afford to marry her, with the very fair fortune she must have, unless her father should gamble it away in Peru.’

This was for Lord Ormersfield the incoherency of joy, and Louis was quite carried along by his delight.  The breakfast-bell rang, and the Earl rising and drawing his son’s arm within his own, pressed it, saying, ‘Bless you, Louis!’ It was extreme surprise and pleasure to Fitzjocelyn, and yet the next moment he recollected that he stood committed.

How silent he was—­how unusually gentle and gracious his father to the whole party! quite affectionate to Mary, and not awful even to Clara.  There was far too much meaning in it, and Louis feared Mrs. Ponsonby was seeing through all.

‘A morning of Greek would be insupportable,’ thought he; and yet he felt as if the fetters of fate were being fast bound around him, when he heard his father inviting James to ride with him.

He wandered and he watched, he spoke absently to Clara, but felt as if robbed of a protector, when she was summoned up-stairs to attend to her packing, and Mary remained alone, writing one of her long letters to Lima.