y
wearisome, and I long for security. It is for this reason I have decided
on marrying Sir William instead of his son. The indiscretion of a man
of his age taking a wife of mine will naturally lead to retirement and
reclusion from the world, and we shall seek out some little visited spot
where no awkward memories are like to leave their cards on us. I have
resigned myself to so much in life, that I shall submit to all this with
as good a grace as I have shown in other sacrifices. Of course L. can
spoil this project,--he can upset the boat,--but he ought to remember,
if he does, that he was never a good swimmer. Do try and impress this
upon him; there are usually some flitting moments of every day when he
is capable of understanding a reason. Catch one of these, dear pa, and
profit by it. It is by no means certain that Miss L. would accept him;
but, certainly, smarting as she is under all manner of broken ties, the
moment is favorable, and the stake a large one. Nor is there much time
to lose, for it seems that young Heathcote cannot persuade the Horse
Guards to give him even a 'Cornetcy,' and is in despair how he is to
re-enter the service; the inevitable consequence of which will be a
return home here, and, after a while, a reconciliation. It is only wise
people who ever know that the science of life is opportunity, everything
being possible at some one moment, which, perhaps, never recurs again.

"I scarcely know what to say about Clara. She has lost her spirits,
though gained in looks, and she is a perfect mope, but very pretty
withal. She fancies herself in love with a young college man lately
here, who won all the disposable hearts in the place, and might have had
a share even in mine, if he had asked for it. The greater fool he that
he did not, since he wanted exactly such guidance as I could give to
open the secret door of success to him. By the way, has his father died,
or what has become of him? In turning over some papers t'other day, the
name recurred with some far from pleasant recollections associated with
it. Scientific folk used to tell us that all the constituents of our
mortal bodies became consumed _every_ seven years of life. And why, I
ask, ought we not to start with fresh memories as well as muscles, and
ignore any past beyond that short term of existence? I am perfectly
convinced it is carrying alone bygones, whether of events or people,
that constitutes the greatest ill of life. One so very seldom