'You may hide it from me, but you will eat out your heart with sadness and longing,' he said, with something of a groan. Richard was very dear to him, though he was not Benjamin. He was more like Joseph, he thought, a little quaintly, as he looked up at the noble young face. 'Yes, Joseph, the ruler among his brethren. Ah, Cardie, it is not to be, I suppose; and now you will eat out your heart and youth with the longing after this girl.' 'Do not think so meanly of me,' returned the young man with a flush. 'You loved my mother for three years before you married her, and I only pleaded my cause yesterday. Do you think I should be worthy of loving the noblest, yes, the noblest of women,' he continued, his gray eyes lighting up with enthusiasm, 'if I were so weakly to succumb to this disappointment. _Laborare est orare_--that shall be my motto, father. We must leave results in higher hands.' 'God bless and comfort you, my son,' returned Mr. Lambert, with some emotion. He looked at Richard with a sort of tender reverence; would that all disappointed lovers could bear themselves as generously as his brave boy, he thought; and then they sat for a few minutes in silence. 'You do not mind my going away for a little while? I think Roy would be glad to have me?' asked Richard presently. 'No, Cardie; but we shall be sorry to lose you.' 'If I were only thinking of myself, I would remain; but it will be better for her,' he continued, hesitating; 'she could not come here, at least, not yet; but if I were away it would make no difference. I want you all to be kinder than ever to her, father,' and now his voice shook a little for the first time. 'You do not know how utterly lonely and miserable she is,' and the promise given, Richard quietly turned the conversation into other channels. But he was less reticent with Mildred, and to her he avowed that his pain was very great. 'I can bear to live without her; at least I could be patient for years, but I cannot bear leaving her to her father's sorry protection. If my love could only shield her in her trouble, I think I could be content,' and Mildred understood him. 'We will all be so good to her for your sake,' she returned, with a nice womanly tact, not wearying him with effusion of sympathy, but giving him just the comforting assurance he needed. Richard's fortitude and calmness had deceived his father, but Mildred knew something of the silence of exceeding pain. 'Thank you,' he said in a low voice; and Mildred knew she had said the right thing. But as he was bidding them good-bye two days afterwards, he beckoned her apart from the others. 'Aunt Milly, I trust her to you,' he said, hurriedly; 'remember all my comfort lies in your goodness to her.' 'Yes, Richard, I know; as far as I can, I will be her friend. You shall hear everything from me,' and so she sent him away half-comforted.