“But, my dear Crispin, granted I have these capabilities you so kindly gift me with, of which I am doubtful, Justinian has only known me two days, and a clever man as he is could scarcely come to a conclusion so quickly.” “Justinian is a good judge of character, and can tell the nature of a man in five minutes, where you or I would take five years in the search. Besides,” added the poet, with an imperceptible smile, “he may have another and stronger reason.” “You mean Helena, I suppose?” Now Crispin did not mean Helena at all; but as what he did allude to was not his own secret, he let Maurice believe that his supposition regarding Helena was the right one. “Well, yes; I suppose Helena is a reason.” “Do you think he would let me marry her?” asked Maurice breathlessly. “I am certain he would,” answered Crispin, looking straight at his companion; “quite positive. But you—what about yourself?” “I love her dearly.” “Two days’ acquaintance—you love her dearly! Is that not rather sharp work?” “Two days!” echoed Maurice contemptuously. “I have known her longer than that. I fell in love with her portrait, as you know, and resolved, if she had the qualities I thought she had from her face, I would marry her. From what I have seen of her, I am certain she has those qualities, and would make me a good wife, provided always she consents to marry me. Beautiful, pure, charming, simplicity itself; oh, my friend, she is indeed a prize I may think myself lucky in winning!” “When a man is in love,” said Crispin intensively, “it is no use reasoning with him; and, as regards Helena, I quite approve of all you say. She will make you an admirable wife; but, think to yourself, how will this uncultured, simple girl look beside the cultured ladies of England?” “That is the very point about which I desire to ask your and the Rector’s advice,” said Maurice eagerly. “Will I marry Helena, and accept the post of governing this island? or will I marry Helena, and go back to Roylands?” “In any case, I see it is ‘marry Helena,’” rejoined his companion dryly; “but really I hardly know what to say. Life here is charming and indolent. You like charm and indolence, so why not stay here? On the other hand, you have your ancestral acres, your position in the world, to think of, and if you value these more than a life in this delightful Castle of Indolence—well, go back.” “I don’t know what to do.” “Well, I have given you my advice, and, as is usual in such cases, you will not take it.” “It is such a difficult question.” “Granted! but you will have to decide one way or the other shortly. One thing is certain, that it would be beneficial to your art.” “That is true enough.” “After all,” said Crispin seductively, “what better life can you desire? A ready-made kingdom, small and compact—a delightful climate—obedient subjects—a lotus-eating existence—and Helena!” “It is delightful—but duty?”