After smelling the flowers twenty times, and placing them in twenty different forms, Marvel at last threw them on the bank, and, with a sudden effort, exclaimed, “You have a daughter, Mr. James Harrison.” “I know I have; and I thank God for it.” “So you have reason to do; for a more lovely girl and a better, in my opinion, never existed.” “One must not praise one’s own, or I should agree with you,” said the proud father. Again there was silence. And again Marvel picked up his primroses. “In short,” said he, “Mr. Harrison, would you like me for a son-in-law?” “Would Lucy like you for a husband? I must know that first,” said the good father. “That is what I do not know,” replied Marvel; “but, if I was to ask her, she would ask you, I am sure, whether you would like me for a son-in-law.” “At this rate, we shall never get forwards,” said Harrison. “Go you back to Miss Milly, and send my Lucy here to me.” We shall not tell how Lucy picked up the flowers, which had been her lover’s grand resource; nor how often she blushed upon the occasion: she acknowledged that she thought Mr. Marvel _very agreeable_, but that she was afraid to marry a person who had so little steadiness. That she had heard of a great number of schemes, undertaken by him, which had failed; or which he had given up as hastily as he had begun them. “Besides,” said she, “may be he might change his mind about me as well as about other things; for I’ve heard from my cousin Milly--I’ve heard--that--he was in love, not very long since, with an actress in York. Do you think this is all true?” “Yes, I know it is all true,” said Mr. Harrison, “for he told me so himself. He is an honest, open-hearted young man; but I think as you do, child, that we cannot be sure of his steadiness.” When Marvel heard from Mr. Harrison the result of this conversation, he was inspired with the strongest desire to convince Lucy that he was capable of perseverance. To the astonishment of all who knew him, or who thought that they knew him, he settled steadily to business; and, for a whole twelvemonth, no one heard him speak of any new scheme. At the end of this time he renewed his proposal to Lucy; saying that he hoped she would now have some dependence upon his constancy to her, since she had seen the power she had over his mind. Lucy was artless and affectionate, as well as prudent: now that her only real objection to the match was lessened, she did not torment him, to try her power; but acknowledged her attachment to him, and they were married. Sir Plantagenet Mowbray’s agent was much astonished that Lucy did not prefer him, because he was a much richer man than Pierce Marvel; and Miss Milly Harrison was also astonished that Mr. Marvel did not prefer her to such a country girl as Lucy, especially when she had a thousand pounds more _to_ her fortune. But, notwithstanding all this astonishment, Marvel and his wife were perfectly happy.