"Well, cheer up, my boy!" said Lord Cumberworth, as he bade his son good night. "There is no use in fretting--there are more pretty girls than one in the world, and you are not the first sentimental young man who has been crossed in love. _Il en faut passer par là._ We have all been crossed in love in our time. I, myself, was very much smitten with another woman when I married your mother; but I saw that my marrying Helen was out of the question, and so I did what they all wished me to do, and it answered just as well. Your mother is a very good woman, Frank, and I am very fond of her. So cheer up, my boy--never be down-hearted! You will forget your Dulcinea long before you cross the line." He was closing the door, when he turned back again to say,--"Frank, you look for all the world as if you were younger brother to the knight of La Mancha--_el cavaliere de la triste figura_,--with your pale cheeks and your high forehead. I would not be a skill of wine or a windmill in your way for something!" The good-humoured but unsentimental father chuckled at his own joke, and went off to bed so relieved that his son would be secured from the impending danger, that it quite reconciled him to his departure. When they arrived at Brighton late the following evening, poor Lady Cumberworth was in despair at the prospect of her pet, her darling, the most affectionate, the most considerate, the most dutiful of all her children, running all the risks consequent upon a banishment to India; "not only," as she said, "braving perils by sea and perils by land, but those of climate and disease." "There are worse perils in England, Mary," replied her husband with a knowing wink. "Perils by eyes are the most dangerous for handsome young fellows! Depend upon it, he is far safer in the other hemisphere; for peril by marriage is the worst of all--that is to say, when a man has nothing, and never can have anything as long as lives." De Molton shrunk at hearing his attachment alluded to among all the family circle; though to his dear gentle mother he could have opened his whole heart, and to most of his sisters individually also. The eldest was grown a little starch, and the youngest was rather too young and giddy; but the four middle ones had plenty of romance in them, and would have listened to his tale with tears in their eyes. To any one of them in a tête-à-tête he might have spoken his feelings; but to have twelve curious, wondering, though kind eyes, turn upon him at once, was peculiarly unpleasant to a sensitive and reserved man. Lady Cumberworth saw his distress, and hastened to say, "We were just going to bed when you arrived. I shall carry Frank off to have a quiet gossip with him; so good night, girls!"