"Letters--Literature!" exclaimed the statesman. "Beggary! No, no, Harley, this is your absurd romance." "It will not be beggary, and it is not my romance: it is the boy's. Leave him alone, he is my care and my charge henceforth. He is of _her_ blood, and I said that he had _her_ eyes." "But you are going abroad; let me know where he is; I will watch over him." "And unsettle a right ambition for a wrong one? No--you shall know nothing of him till he can proclaim himself. I think that day will come." Audley mused a moment, and then said, "Well, perhaps you are right. After all, as you say, independence is a great blessing, and my ambition has not rendered myself the better or the happier." "Yet, my poor Audley, you ask me to be ambitious." "I only wish you to be consoled," cried Egerton with passion. "I will try to be so; and by the help of a milder remedy than yours. I said that my adventure might influence my future; it brought me acquainted not only with the young man I speak of, but the most winning affectionate child--a girl." "Is this child an Avenel too?" "No, she is of gentle blood--a soldier's daughter; the daughter of that Captain Digby, on whose behalf I was a petitioner to your patronage. He is dead, and in dying, my name was on his lips. He meant me, doubtless, to be the guardian to his orphan. I shall be so. I have at last an object in life." "But can you seriously mean to take this child with you abroad?" "Seriously, I do." "And lodge her in your own house?" "For a year or so while she is yet a child. Then, as she approaches youth, I shall place her elsewhere." "You may grow to love her. Is it clear that she will love you? not mistake gratitude for love? It is a very hazardous experiment." "So was William the Norman's--still he was William the Conqueror. Thou biddest me move on from the past, and be consoled, yet thou wouldst make me as inapt to progress as the mule in Slawkenbergius's tale, with thy cursed interlocutions, 'Stumbling, by St. Nicholas, every step. Why, at this rate, we shall be all night, getting into--' _Happiness!_ Listen," continued Harley, setting off, full pelt, into one of his wild, whimsical humors. "One of the sons of the prophets in Israel, felling wood near the River Jordan, his hatchet forsook the helve, and fell to the bottom of the river; so he prayed to have it again (it was but a small request, mark you); and having a strong faith, he did not throw the hatchet after the helve, but the helve after the hatchet. Presently two great miracles were seen. Up springs the hatchet from the bottom of the water, and fixes itself to its old acquaintance, the helve. Now, had he wished to coach it to Heaven in a fiery chariot like Elias, be as rich as Job, strong as Samson, and beautiful as Absalom, would he have obtained it, do you think? In truth, my friend, I question it very much." "I can not comprehend what you mean. Sad stuff you are talking."