"Oh, never mind that, my boy,"--she answered kindly;--"we are both only too glad to assist any one, especially you, Frank, whom the vicar calls his `old maid's son!' All you have to do now, is, to be hopeful and persevere! Only let me see you and Miss Min happily married in the end--for I, you know, like to see young lovers happy:--I have such a large amount of romance in me!" Indeed she had, I thought, when she laughed cheerily at the idea. "I'll work, never fear,"--I said--"but, promotion is very slow in Government offices. It may be years before I have a decent income such as would satisfy Mrs Clyde!" "Don't think of that, my boy,"--she said, presently.--"Don't look too far ahead! Let me see what my Keble says," she added, taking down the volume of the _Christian Year_, which she constantly consulted each day, from its regular place on her corner of the mantelpiece, where it always stood guard over her favourite chair.--"Ah,"--she continued, turning over the pages,--"I knew that I would find something to suit you. Just hear what he says of the `lilies of the field'-- "`Alas! of thousand bosoms kind That daily court you and caress, How few the happy secret find Of your calm loveliness! Live for to-day! to-morrow's light To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight, Go, sleep like closing flowers at night, And Heaven thy morn shall bless.'" "Ah! But do you think I shall be successful?"--I asked, wishing to have my own hopes corroborated. "To be sure you will, my boy. Why, there you will have another hundred a-year at once added to your income, besides what you make from your literary work! In a short time you will be quite `an eligible person,' I do declare!"--she said, laughing away my fit of the blues, in her bright brisk way. "And do you think Min will wait for me?" "Certainly, Frank. You wrong her by the very question. She's not the girl to change, or, I'm very much mistaken in her honest, noble face. She will be constant and true, after what she has said to you, until death!" "Oh, thank you for that assurance,"--I said. I went home completely contented and happy. You may wonder, perhaps, at this buoyancy of temperament, that enabled me to get over so quickly the disappointment and dejection I was suffering from at Mrs Clyde's brusque rejection of my suit? But, you must recollect that I was naturally sanguine, as I have previously told you; and, the memory of my unhappy defeat, although not quite forgotten, became merged into the hopeful anticipations I now had--of working for my darling, and being enabled to renew my offer, in a short time, with better chances of success. Hang care! It killed a cat once, you know. Was it not Lord Palmerston, by the way, who once made that capital classic hit at the versatile chief of the Adullamites in Parliament during a debate on the budget, when he said--"Atra cura post _equitem_ sedet?" Care should not sit behind _me_, however; or, in front of me, either!