Lucy was not long without discovering, that her brother had found a sweet consolation in Miss Cowley’s sympathy and society; and she began to wonder, that her father should have so apparently overlooked what had so recently called forth her observation, namely, that Horace, near twenty years old, was a more dangerous guest than when short of fifteen. Perfectly acquainted with the motives which had led her father to submit to his absence, she took an opportunity of remarking to her friend, that Horace’s unguarded behaviour would soon banish him again from Heathcot; and that she was surprised he had been permitted to stay so long, which she solely attributed to his father’s state of mind, and his being so much alone. “If you had been as observant of my conduct as of your brother’s,” replied Miss Cowley with seriousness, “you would have perceived what you call the same indiscretion on my part: for the truth is, we wish not to conceal an affection on which our happiness depends. Horace knows that I love him, and I know he loves me, and whether at Heathcot or in the deserts of Arabia, we shall live for each other. I am too young, you will say,” continued she with increased seriousness of manner, “to decide thus positively on a business of such importance to my future happiness. But I answer, that I am not a romantic girl. I will stand the test of time with cheerfulness; for either I have no title to the name of a natural being, or I am qualified to judge of Horace’s title to my esteem and regard. I shall place before my father, as soon as we meet, the _solid_ grounds I have for my preference of your brother: I will leave to his judgment and liberality of mind to determine the time when I may be supposed to know my own heart, and to consider whether Mr. Hardcastle’s son will be any disgrace to Mr. Cowley or his supposed wealth. But I have no apprehensions on this point. My father is a generous minded man. He married for happiness himself, and he would revolt at the idea of sacrificing his daughter at the shrine of avarice or ambition. No, no, Lucy,” added she with animation, “in attaching my affections to an honest and worthy man, I have not sinned against that authority which my father claims; and to give me to a Hardcastle for life will be the consummation of that parental love which consigned me into the hands of your excellent mother. He will soon be here; he will appeal to your father’s understanding and tried friendship; Mr. Hardcastle will discard his scruples, and sanction, with his consent, my right to the name I revere.” “We shall be sisters,” continued she, fondly kissing Lucy’s cheek. “One bond of love will unite us for life. I have no fears.”