"Forgive me, Sir, and tell me how I can make you happier. For I am truly
grateful for all you have done for me, and will try to be a docile child
to you."

"Be happy yourself, Effie, and I shall be content. I am too grave and
old to be a fit companion for you, dear. You shall have gay faces and
young friends to make this quiet place more cheerful. I should have
thought of that before. Dance, sing, be merry, Effie, and never let your
life be darkened by Basil Ventnor's changeful moods."

"And you?" she whispered, looking up.

"I will sit among my books, or seek alone the few friends I care to see,
and never mar your gayety with my gloomy presence, dear. We must begin
at once to go our separate ways; for, with so many years between us, we
can never find the same paths pleasant very long. Let me be a father to
you, and a friend,--I cannot be a lover, child."

Effie rose and went silently away; but soon came again, wrapped in her
mantle, saying, as she looked down at me, with something of her former
cheerfulness,--

"I am good now. Come and row me down the river. It is too beautiful a
night to be spent in tears and naughtiness."

"No, Effie, you shall never go to Mrs. Vaughan's again, if you dislike
her so. No friendship of mine need be shared by you, if it gives you
pain."