the just pride and sensibilities of the high-minded family about to
confide its brightest ornament to my care.

"My dear father, in the midst of felicity almost more than mortal, the
thought has come that this letter is my first step towards leaving the
paternal roof under which I have been so happy all my life, thanks to
you. I should indeed be unworthy of all your goodness if this thought
caused me no emotion.

"Yet I do but yield to Nature's universal law. And, should I be master of
my own destiny, I will not go far from you. I have been unjust to
Barkington: or rather I have echoed, without thought, Oxonian prejudices
and affectation. On mature reflection, I know no better residence for a
married man.

"Do you remember about a year ago you mentioned a Miss Lucy Fountain to
us as 'the most perfect gentlewoman you had ever met?' Well, strange to
say, it is that very lady's daughter; and I think when you see her you
will say the breed has anything but declined, in spite of Horace mind his
_'damnosa quid non.'_ Her brother is my dearest friend, and she is
Jenny's; so a more happy alliance for all parties was never projected.

"Write to me by return, dear father, and believe me, ever your dutiful
and grateful son,

"ALFRED HARDlE."


As he concluded, Julia came in, and he insisted on her reading this
masterpiece. She hesitated. Then he told her with juvenile severity that