"

"I remember your having said that," said May, thoughtfully.

"Yes; it was in correction of a great mistake you had made, May, when
you were deploring the fate of some one who had contracted an unequal
marriage. It was then that I ventured to tell you that what the world
calls a misalliance is the one sure throw for a happy union."

"But you did n't convince me!" said May, hastily.

"Possibly not. I could not expect you to look on life from the same
sad eminence I have climbed to; still I think you understood me when I
showed you that as air and sunlight are blessings which we enjoy without
an effort, so affection, gained without sacrifice, elicits no high sense
of self-esteem,--none of that self-love which is but the reflex of real
love."

"Charles would, then, according to your theory, be eminently happy
in marrying me, for, to all appearance, the sacrifice would be
considerable," said May, with a half-bitter laugh.

"_My_ theory only applies to _us_ dear May; as for men, they marry from
a variety of motives, all prompted by some one or other feature of their
selfishness: this one for fortune, that for family influence, the other
because he wants a home, and so on."

"And not for love at all?" broke in May.

"Alas! dearest, the man who affords himself the pleasure of being in
love is almost always unable to indulge in any other luxury. It is your
tutor creature, there, like Layton, falls in love!"

May smiled, and turned away her head; but the crimson flush of her
cheek soon spread over her neck, and Mrs. Morris saw it.

"Yes," resumed she, as if reflecting aloud, "love is the one sole
dissipation of these student men, and, so to say, it runs through the
dull-colored woof of their whole after-life, like a single gold thread
glittering here and there at long intervals, and it gives them those
dreamy fits of imaginative bliss which their quiet helpmates trustfully
ascribe to some intellectual triumph. And it is in these the poor curate
forgets his sermon, and the village doctor his patient, thinking of some
moss-rose he had plucked long ago!"

"Do you believe that, Loo?" asked the girl, eagerly.

"I know it, dear; and what's more, it is these very men are the best
of husbands, the kindest and the tenderest. The perfume of an early love
keeps the heart pure for many a long year after. Let us take Layton, for
instance."

"But why Mr. Layton? What do we know about him?"

"Not much, certainly; but enough