mania that it fits
him, because he may heretofore have been both bull and bear; and as for
any other heroes yet to come upon this scene, to enact the tragedy or
comedy of Heart--"Know all men by these presents,"--your humble
servant's will is to smite bad principles, not offending persons; to
crusade against evil manners, not his guilty fellow-men.

Wo is me! who am I, that I should satirize my brethren?--Yet, wo is
me--if I silently hide the sin I see. Make me not an offender for a
word, seeing that my purposes are good. Be not hypercritical, for
Heart's sake, against a man whose aim it is to help the cause of Heart.
Neither count it sufficient to answer me with an inconclusive "_tu
quoque_:" I know it, I feel it, I confess it, I would away with it.
Heaven send to him that writes, as liberally as to those who read (yea,
more, according to his deeper needs and failings) the grace to
counteract all mammonizing blights, and to cultivate this garden of the
Heart.

CHAPTER V.

WHEREIN A WELL-MEANING MOTHER ACTS VERY FOOLISHLY.

Returned from her unsuccessful embassage, Lady Dillaway
determined--kind, calm soul--to hide the bitter truth from poor Maria,
that her father was inexorably adverse. A scene was of all things that
indentical article least liked by the quiescent mother; and that her
warm-hearted daughter would enact one, if she heard those echoes of
paternal love, was clearly a problem requiring no demonstration.

Accordingly, with well-intentioned kindliness, but shallowish wisdom,
and most questionable propriety, Maria was persuaded to believe that her
father had hem'd and haw'd a little, had objected no doubt to Henry's
lack of money, but would certainly, on second thoughts, consider the
affair more favourably:

"You know your father's way, my love; leave him to himself, and I am
sure his better feeling will not fail to plead your cause: it will be
prudent, however, just for quiet's sake, to see less of Henry Clements
for a day or two, till the novelty of my intelligence blows over.
Meantime, do not cry, dear child; take courage, all will be well; and I
will give you my free leave to console your Henry too."

"Dearest, dearest mamma, how can I thank you sufficiently for all this?
But why may I not now at once fly to papa, tell him all I feel and wish
cordially and openly, and touch his dear kind heart? I am sure he would
give us both his sanction and his blessing, if he only knew how much I
love h