But another came from _him_. It was one of tender reproach for my long silence, and it requested an immediate answer to the munificent proposal of my mother. If I refused it, a stranger would be called upon to enjoy my rights, and the opportunity for realizing a handsome fortune would never occur again. Such were its exciting terms, and once more, perplexed by desire and doubt, I appealed to the purer judgment of my Anna. "She wept when she came to the close of the epistle, and had not a word to say. "'I distress you, Anna,' said I, 'by my indecision. Dry your tears, my beloved; I will hesitate no longer.' "'I know not what to do,' she faltered; 'if you should act upon my advice, and afterwards repent, you would never forgive me. Yet, I believe from my very soul that you should flee from this temptation. But do as you will--as seems wisest and best--and trust not to a weak woman. Do what reason and principle direct, and happen what will--I will be satisfied. One thing occurs to me. Can you trust your uncle?" I hesitated. "'I ask,' she continued, 'because you have often spoken of him as if you could not confidently. May he not have--I judge of him only from your report--some motive for his present conduct which we cannot penetrate? It is an unkind world, and the innocent and guileless are not safe from the schemes and contrivances of the wicked. I speak at random, but I am filled with alarm for you. You are safe now--but one step may be your ruin.' "'You are right, Anna,' I replied; 'it is too great a venture, I cannot trust this man. I will not leave the path of duty. I will refuse his offer this very night.' "And I did so. In her presence I wrote an answer to his letter, and declined respectfully the brilliant prospect which he had placed before me. The letter was dispatched--Anna was at peace, and my own mind was satisfied.