After love comes marriage, and I can fancy your grave looks at the idea of my making Meg Merle my wife. From a worldly point of view I admit that I might do better. She is only the daughter of a country doctor, and has not a penny to her name. But, Jack, she has more than money or rank. She has beauty, and honesty, and a noble soul. If you only heard the vicar talk about her! and, from what little I have seen, I endorse every word of his eulogy. Where would I meet with such another? Shall I discard this pearl simply because I gave myself the trouble to be born a lord? No, my friend, a thousand times no! I shall have many opportunities of seeing Meg, and if she is all Jarner says and all I take her to be, then will I make her Lady Ardleigh--that is, if she is willing to bless me with her hand and heart. As to the opinion of society, I care no more for that than you do. I have always gone my own way and done what I thought was right, even at the cost of being considered priggish and eccentric. I do not need more money, and would rather take a penniless wife like Meg than marry the artificial daughter of a millionaire. Marriage is a sacrament, not a compact. Would you have me give my title in exchange for filthy lucre, Jack? Perish the idea! Rather would I remain a bachelor for the rest of my life. My relations may shriek about misalliance, but what care I for their clamour? You stand by me, Jack, and I shall have no fear but that all will yet be well. "And all this," say you, with a grin, "before he knows if the girl will take him." Ay! that's the rub. Remember, I woo unassisted by title or wealth. I woo as plain Dan of the caravan, and have to trust to my own tongue and overmastering passion. She may refuse me, but I don't think she will. Already she has hung out a red flag on her cheeks, and who knows but what my wooing may speed more merrily than I think? At all events, Jack, I have a staunch friend in old Jarner. He will help me win this shy nymph, if no one else will; but, on the whole, I prefer to trust to my unassisted self for success. Here I must close; I could go on writing all night, but out of mercy for you I shall end. Read "Romeo and Juliet," and you will form some faint conception of my feelings. You laugh! He jests at scars who never felt a wound. Ha! ha! I had you in the trap there, friend Jack. But no more--this letter grows tedious, so I end it, and retire to dream of her who makes my hell a heaven. Jack! Jack! you have lost the friend of your youth; for I am now stabbed by a wench's black eye. You, too, will go the same way, though you have railed at love as heartily as did-- Your friend ARDLEIGH. P.S.--Jack, she is an angel. I am not good enough for her. CHAPTER XVIII. AN ELIZABETHAN ANCESTOR. "Have you been waiting long?" asked Meg, swinging a large key. "Close on an hour," replied Dan, ruefully; "I never passed so tedious a sixty minutes in my life."