Harcourt adroitly turned him from the theme which he saw impending,--his departure for the Continent, his residence there, and his marriage,--and once more occupied him in stories of his youthful life in London, when Glencore suddenly came to a stop, and said, “I might have married the greatest beauty of the time,--of a family, too, second to none in all England. You know to whom I allude. Well, she would have accepted me; her father was not averse to the match; a stupid altercation with her brother, Lord Hervey, at Brookes's one night--an absurd dispute about some etiquette of the play-table--estranged me from their house. I was offended at what I deemed their want of courtesy in not seeking me,--for I was in the right; every one said so. I determined not to call first. They gave a great entertainment, and omitted me; and rather than stay in town to publish this affront, I started for the Continent; and out of that petty incident, a discussion of the veriest trifle imaginable, there came the whole course of my destiny.” “To be sure,” said Harcourt, with assumed calm, “every man's fortune in life is at the sport of some petty incident or other, which at the time he undervalues.” “And then we scoff at those men who scrutinize each move, and hesitate over every step in life, as triflers and little-minded; while, if your remark be just, it is exactly they who are the wise and prudent,” cried Glencore, with warmth. “Had I, for instance, seen this occurrence, trivial as it was, in its true light, what and where might I not have been to-day?” “My dear Glencore, the luckiest fellow that ever lived, were he only to cast a look back on opportunities neglected, and conjunctures unprofited by, would be sure to be miserable. I am far from saying that some have not more than their share of the world's sorrows; but, take my word for it, every one has his load, be it greater or less; and, what is worse, we all of us carry our burdens with as much inconvenience to ourselves as we can.” “I know what you would say, Harcourt. It is the old story about giving way to passion, and suffering temper to get the better of one; but let me tell you that there are trials where passion is an instinct, and reason works too slowly. I have experienced such as this.”