be able to see Margaret, perhaps every day, perhaps for hours at a time? Would it not be happiness enough to observe each development of her character, to watch her first maiden love for me, advancing nearer and nearer towards confidence and maturity the oftener we met? As I thought on this, I answered Mr. Sherwin without further hesitation.
“It will be some trial,” I said, “to my patience, though none to my constancy, none to the strength of my affection—I will wait the year.”
“Exactly so,” rejoined Mr. Sherwin; “such candour and such reasonableness were to be expected from one who is quite the gentleman. And now comes my grand difficulty in this business—in fact, the little stipulation I have to make.”
He stopped, and ran his fingers through his hair, in all directions; his features fidgetting and distorting themselves ominously, while he