“That it was the prophecy of a most romantic young lady, much more like Emmeline’s heroics than the quiet, sober Ellen,” he answered, in the same tone; “but as my own idea, of course it is wisdom itself.  But jokes apart, as you are so skilled in the knowledge of the human heart, my dear Ellen, you must know I entered this room to-day for the purpose of probing your own.”

“Mine!” exclaimed the astonished girl, turning suddenly pale; “what do you mean?”

“Only that the Rev. Ernest Lacy has been with me this morning entreating my permission to address you, and indeed making proposals for your hand.  I told him that my permission he could have, with my earnest wishes for his success, and that I did not doubt your aunt’s consent would be as readily given.  Do not look so terribly alarmed; I told him I could not let the matter proceed any farther without first speaking to you.”

“Pray let it go no farther, then, my dear uncle,” said Ellen, very earnestly, as her needle fell from her hand, and she turned her eyes beseechingly on her uncle’s face.  “I thank Mr. Lacy for the high opinion he must have of me in making me this offer, but indeed I cannot accept it.  Do not, by your consent, let him encourage hopes which must end in disappointment.”

“My approbation I cannot withdraw, Ellen, for most sincerely do I esteem the young man; and there are few whom I would so gladly behold united to my family as himself.  Why do you so positively refuse to hear him?  You may not know him sufficiently now, I grant you, to love him, yet believe me, the more you know him the more will you find in him both to esteem and love.”

“I do not doubt it, my dear uncle.  He is one among the young men who visit here whom I most highly esteem, and I should be sorry to lose his friendship by the refusal of his hand.”

“But why not allow him to plead for himself?  You are not one of those romantic beings, Ellen, who often refuse an excellent offer, because they imagine they are not violently in love.”

“Pray do not condemn me as such, my dear uncle; indeed, it is not the case.  Mr. Lacy, the little I know of him, appears to possess every virtue calculated to make an excellent husband.  I know no fault to which I can bring forward any objection; but”—­

“But what, my dear niece?  Surely, you are not afraid of speaking freely before your aunt and myself?”

“No, uncle; but I have little to say except that I have no wish to marry; that it would be more pain to leave you and my aunt than marriage could ever compensate.”

“Why, Nelly, do you mean to devote yourself to us all your young life, old and irritable as we shall in all probability become? think again, my dear girl, many enjoyments, much happiness, as far as human eye can see, await the wife of Lacy.  Emmeline, you are silent; do you not agree with me in wishing to behold our gentle Ellen the wife of one so universally beloved as this young clergyman?”