It was, as I said, near the time appointed for his ordination, when he felt for the first time, as though he had _a right_ to speak openly with her of all his hopes. He asked her then, what in soul-language he had long before asked, a question which she had as emphatically, in like language, answered—to be the partner of his life for weal or for wo. He had tried to calmly consider Rosalie’s character, as a Christian minister should consider the character of her whom he would make the sharer of his peculiar lot, and setting every preference aside, Duncan felt that she was fitted to assist and to bear, with him. She was truthful as the day, strong-minded and generous, humane and charitable, and though no professor of religion, a woman full of reverence and veneration. He knew that it was only a fear that she should not _adorn_ the Christian name that kept her back from the altar of the church, and he loved her for that spirit of humility, knowing that she was “on the Lord’s side,” and that grace ere long would be given her to proclaim it in the doing _all_ His commandments. It was certainly with a joyful and confident heart, after he had _spoken_ with Rosalie, that Duncan sought his mother yesterday, to speak with her of the _whole_ of that bright future which opened now before him. How then was he overcome with surprise and grief, when Mrs. Melville told him that it was a union to which she could _never_ consent! Then, for the first time in his life, the astonished young man heard of that stain which was on the name poor Rosalie bore. He heard the story to an end, and then with a decision and energy that would have settled the matter with almost any other person, he declared: “Yet, mother—I will not give her up.” “It could not be expected that you would fulfill the engagement; Rosalie herself would not allow it, if she knew the truth of the matter.” “But she need not know it—there is no existing necessity. Is it not enough that she is good and precious _to me_? She is a noble woman, whose life has been, thanks to your guidance, beautiful and lofty.” “God knows I have striven to do my duty by her—but I know not what I should have done, if I had thought you would ever wish to change your relations with her, Duncan.” “The world has not her equal! It is cruel, it is wrong, mother, in you to oppose.” “She _is_ a lovely woman—she has well availed herself of the advantages given her—but, my son, there are myriads like her.” “No, not one! Tell me, you will never breathe a word of this to her?” “Never!” “Oh, thank you! thank you! Mother, you could not wish another daughter?” “But for that I have told you, Duncan, I could not wish another.” “Then I say you must not work this great injustice on her and me. Rosalie loves me, she has promised to be mine. You will break my heart.”