After these remarks I remained silent for some time; I was analysing my own feelings, and I felt that I had acted in a very absurd manner. The fact was, that one of my castle buildings had been, that I was to marry Fleta as soon as I had found my own father, and this it was which had actuated me, almost without my knowing it. I felt jealous of Harcourt, and that, without being in love with Miss de Clare, but actually passionately fond of another person; I felt as if I could have married her without loving her, and that I could give up Susannah Temple, whom I did love, rather than that a being, whom I considered as almost of my own creation, should herself presume to fall in love, or that another should dare to love her, until I had made up my mind whether I should take her myself; and this after so long an absence, and their having given up all hopes of ever seeing me again. The reader may smile at the absurdity, still more at the selfishness of this feeling; so did I, when I had reflected upon it, and I despised myself for my vanity and folly. "What are you thinking of, Japhet?" observed Mr Masterton, tired with my long abstraction. "That I have been making a most egregious fool of myself, sir," replied I, "with respect to the de Clares." "I did not say so, Japhet; but to tell you the truth, I thought something very like it. Now tell me, were you not jealous at finding her in company with Harcourt?" "Exactly so, sir." "I'll tell Susannah Temple when see I her, that she may form some idea of your constancy," replied Mr Masterton, smiling. "Why what a dog in the manger you must be--you can't marry them both. Still, under the circumstances, I can analyse the feeling--it is natural, but all that is natural is not always creditable to human nature. Let us talk a little about Susannah, and all these vagaries will be dispersed. How old is she?" Mr Masterton plied me with so many questions relative to Susannah, that her image alone soon filled my mind, and I recovered my spirits. "I don't know what she will say, at my being in this dress, sir," observed I. "Had I not better change it on my arrival?" "By no means; I'll fight your battle--I know her character pretty well, thanks to your raving about her." PART THREE, CHAPTER NINETEEN. CONTAINS MUCH LEARNED ARGUMENT UPON BROAD BRIMS AND GARMENTS OF GREY--I GET THE BEST OF IT--THE ONE GREAT WISH OF MY LIFE IS GRANTED--I MEET MY FATHER, AND A COLD RECEPTION, VERY INDICATIVE OF MUCH AFTER-HEAT.