THE intention of Edgar had been to ride to Mrs. Needham, the lady of whom he meant to ask the information to which he had alluded; but a charm too potent for resistance demanded his immediate liberation from the promise to Dr. Marchmont, which bound him to proceed no further till they had again conversed together.

He galloped, therefore, to the parsonage-house of Cleves, and entering the study of the Doctor, and taking him by the hand, with the most animated gesture; ‘My dear and honoured friend,’ he cried, ‘I come to you now without hesitation, and free from every painful embarrassment of lurking irresolution! I come to you decided, and upon grounds which cannot offend you, though the decision anticipates your counsel. I come to you, in fine, my dear Doctor, my good and kind friend, to confess that yesterday you saw right, with regard to the situation of my mind, and that, today, I have only your felicitations to beg, upon my confirmed, my irrevocable choice!’

Dr. Marchmont embraced him: ‘May you then,’ he cried, ‘be as happy, my dear young friend, as you deserve! I can wish you nothing higher.’

‘Last night,’ continued Edgar, ‘I felt all doubt die away: captivating as I have ever thought her, so soft, so gentle, so touchingly sweet, as last night, I had never yet beheld her; you witnessed it, my dear Doctor? you saw her with the baby in her arms? how beautiful, how endearing a sight!’

The Doctor looked assentingly, but did not speak.

‘Yet even last night was short of the feelings she excited this morning. My dear friend! she was upon the point of making an excursion from which she had promised herself peculiar pleasure, and to see a lady for whom she had conceived the warmest admiration–I begged her to postpone-perhaps relinquish entirely the visit-she had obtained leave from Sir Hugh-the carriage was at the door-would you, could you believe such sweetness with such vivacity? she complied with my request, and complied with a grace that has rivetted her–I own it-that has rivetted her to my soul!’

Doctor Marchmont smiled, but rather pensively than rejoicingly; and Edgar, receiving no answer, walked for some time about the room, silently enjoying his own thoughts.

Returning then to the Doctor, ‘My dear friend,’ he cried, ‘I understood you wished to speak with me?’

‘Yes-but I thought you disengaged.’

‘So, except mentally, I am still.’

‘Does she not yet know her conquest?’

‘She does not even guess it.’

Dr. Marchmont now rising, with much energy said: ‘Hear me then, my dear and most valued young friend, forbear to declare yourself, make no overtures to her relations, raise no expectations even in her own breast, and let not rumour surmise your passion to the world, till her heart is better known to you.’

Edgar, starting and amazed, with great emotion exclaimed: ‘What do you mean, my good Doctor? do you suspect any prior engagement? any fatal prepossession?’–

‘I suspect nothing. I do not know her. I mean not, therefore, the propensities alone, but the worth, also, of her heart; deception is easy, and I must not see you thrown away.’

‘Let me, then, be her guarantee!’ cried Edgar, with firmness; ‘for I know her well! I have known her from her childhood, and cannot be deceived. I fear nothing-except my own powers of engaging her regard. I can trace to a certainty, even from my boyish remarks, her fair, open, artless, and disinterested charachter.’

He then gave a recital of the nobleness of her sentiments and conduct when only nine years old; contrasting the relation with the sullen and ungenerous behaviour of Indiana at the same age.

Dr. Marchmont listened to the account with attention and pleasure, but not with an air of that full conviction which Edgar expected. ‘All this,’ he said, ‘is highly prophetic of good, and confirms me in the opinion I expressed last night, that every possible happiness promises to be yours.’

‘Yet, still,’ said Edgar, a little chagrined, ‘there seems some drawback to your entire approbation?’

‘To your choice I have none.’

‘You perplex me, Doctor! I know not to what you object, what you would intimate, nor what propose?’

‘All I have to suggest may be comprised in two points: First, That you will refuse confirmation even to your own intentions, till you have positively ascertained her actual possession of those virtues with which she appears to be endowed: and secondly, That if you find her gifted with them all, you will not solicit her acceptance till you are satisfied of her affection.’

‘My dear Doctor,’ cried Edgar, half laughing, ‘from what an alarm of wild conjecture has your explanation relieved me! Hear me, however, in return, and I think I can satisfy you, that, even upon your own conditions, not an obstacle stands in the way of my speaking to Mr. Tyrold this very evening.

‘With regard to your first article, her virtues, I have told you the dawning superiority of her most juvenile ideas of right; and though I have latterly lost sight of her, by travelling during our vacations, I know her to have always been under the superintendence of one of the first of women; and for these last three weeks, which I have spent under the same roof with her, I have observed her to be all that is amiable, sweet, natural, and generous. What then on this point remains? Nothing. I am irrefragably convinced of her worth.

‘With respect to your second condition, I own you a little embarrass me; yet how may I inquire into the state of her affections, without acknowledging her mistress of mine?’

‘Hold! hold!’ interrupted the Doctor, ‘you proceed too rapidly. The first article is all unsettled, while you are flying to the last.<............