In his reply Berwick had written: “I almost wish it may be as you imagine, in order that I may the better prove to you the strength of my attachment; for I do not underrate the desirableness of an honorable genealogy. No one can prize more than I an unspotted lineage. But I would not marry the woman who I did not think could in herself compensate me for the absence of all advantages of family position and wealth; and whose society could not more than m—flittedake up for the loss of all social attractions that could be offered outside of the home her presence would sanctify. You are the one my heart points to as able to do all this; and so, Leonora, whether it be the bar sinister or the ducal coronet that ought to be in your coat of arms, it matters not to me. No herald’s pen can make you less charming in my eyes. Under any cloud that could be thrown over your origin, to me you would always be, as Portia was to Brutus, a fair and honorable wife;— ‘As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit this sad heart.’ And yet not sad, if you were mine! So do not think that any future development in regard to the antecedents of yourself or of your parents can detract from an affection based on those qualities which are of the soul and heart, and the worth of which no mortal disaster can impair.” To all which the imprudent young lady returned this answer: “Do not think to outdo me in generosity. You judge me independently of all social considerations and advantages; I will do the same by you; for I know as little of you as you do of me.” They met the next morning, and Berwick said: “Is not this a very dangerous precedent we are setting for romantic young people? What if I should turn out to be a swindler or a bigamist?” “My heart would have prescience of it much sooner than my head,” replied Leonora. “Women are not so often misled into uncongenial alliances by their affections as by their passions or their calculations. The lamb, before he has ever known a wolf, is instinctively aware of an enemy’s presence, even while the wolf is yet unseen. If the lamb stopped to reason with himself, he would be very apt to say, ‘Nonsense! it is no doubt a very respectable beast who is approaching. Why should I imagine he wants to harm me?’” “But what if I am a wolf disguised as a lamb?” asked Berwick. “I am so good a judge of tune,” replied Leonora, “that I should detect the sham the moment you tried to cry _baa_. Nay, a repugnant nature makes itself felt to me by its very presence. There are some persons the very touch of whose hand produces an impression, I generally find to be true, of their character.” “An ingenious plea!” said Berwick with an affectation of sarcasm. “But it does not palliate your indiscretion.” “Very well, sir,” replied Leonora, “since you disapprove my precipitancy, we will—” Berwick interrupted the speech at the very portal of her mouth, by surprising its warders, the lips.