"This is very singular," said Mrs. Effingham; but, at the same time, she knew that it was in some degree true; and, after thinking for a few moments, she replied, "Well, Charles, the only thing that I can do is this. I have certainly no right to interfere between you and your father. You must communicate to him your views and wishes when you think fit; but I cannot, of course, suffer any communication between you and Lucy to go on, after what has taken place, till you have made such a communication to your father. I must not even have you write to each other; and if you go to Oxford immediately, and judge it best to delay the communication till you return, I can say nothing against it. In the mean time, however, it will be absolutely necessary for me to state the facts to Lady Tyrrell, and you must not suffer yourself to be tempted by any circumstance to hold any communication with Lucy till your father is fully informed. Listen to me, Charles," she continued, seeing him about to reply. "To make your mind easy, and to repay the confidence you have placed in me, I will say that if, when your father is informed of your attachment, he refuses to sanction it, solely from caprice or ill humour, and assigns no reasonable or legitimate cause for so doing, I will not oppose your union with Lucy Effingham as soon as you are both of age." "Nor shut me out from her society, Mrs. Effingham?" said Charles. "Not when you are of age to judge for yourself," replied Mrs. Effingham, "provided always the motives assigned by your father are capricious and unreasonable. We speak frankly to each other, Charles, and I know that you are not one either to encroach or to misunderstand me." "Oh, no, no, indeed," he answered; "a thousand thanks, dear Mrs. Effingham. If possible, I will certainly set off for Oxford to-morrow, and, in the mean time, I trust Lucy will not forget me." "Her heart would not be worth having if she did," replied Mrs. Effingham. "But there is one thing I want myself to speak to you upon. You are not without your father's defects, Charles. You are impetuous passionate, violent, to a great degree. I have a right to tell you this, Charles, now that my daughter's happiness is likely to be placed in your keeping." "Oh, but, dear madam, I could never be violent or passionate towards such a creature as Lucy," replied Charles Tyrrell. "All men think so when they first love," replied Mrs. Effingham. "They look upon love as one of those famous specifics which we see daily advertised, and think that it will cure all moral maladies; but a short trial shows them the reverse. Even supposing that it be as you say, Charles, still Lucy's happiness may be greatly affected by your violence toward others. If she love as she will love, her existence will become one with her husband's. Every act of his that lessens his dignity, sinks him in the esteem of others, brings him in danger, or calls upon him reproach, will be painful, agonizing, fearful to her."