“My dear Gordon, your happiness as well as hers is very dear to me.  I love you both, and you will, you must, forgive me if what I am about to say should wound or mortify you.  Knowing you both as I do, and wishing to save you future disappointment, I should, even were you my own son, certainly tell you.  Gordon, you will never be Edna’s husband, because intellectually she is your superior.  She feels this, and will not marry one to whose mind her own does not bow in reverence.  To rule the man she married would make her miserable, and she could only find happiness in being ruled by an intellect to which she looked up admiringly.  I know that many very gifted women have married their inferiors, but Edna is peculiar, and in some respects totally unlike any other woman whose character I have carefully studied.  Gordon, you are not offended with me?”

Mr. Leigh put out his hand, grasped that of his companion, and his voice was marked by unwonted tremor as he answered: 

“You pain and humiliate me beyond expression, but I could never be offended at words which I am obliged to feel are dictated by genuine affection.  Mr. Hammond, might not years of thought and study remove the obstacle to which you allude?  Can I not acquire all that you deem requisite?  I would dedicate my life to the attainment of knowledge, to the improvement of my faculties.”

“Erudition would not satisfy her.  Do you suppose she could wed a mere walking encyclopaedia?  She is naturally more gifted than you are, and, unfortunately for you, she discovered the fact when you were studying together.”

“But, sir, women listen to the promptings of heart much oftener than to the cold, stern dictates of reason.”

“Very true, Gordon; but her heart declares against you.”

“Do you know any one whom you regard as fully worthy of her—­any one who will probably win her?”

“I know no man whose noble, generous heart renders him so worthy of her as yourself; and if she could only love you as you deserve, I should be rejoiced; but that I believe to be impossible.”

“Do you know how soon she expects to leave Le Bocage?”

“Probably about the close of the year.”

“I cannot bear to think of her as going among strangers—­being buffeted by the world, while she toils to earn a maintenance.  It is inexpressibly bitter for me to reflect, that the girl whom I love above everything upon earth, who would preside so gracefully, so elegantly over my home, and make my life so proud and happy, should prefer to shut herself up in a school-room, and wear out her life in teaching fretful, spoiled, trying children!  Oh, Mr. Hammond! can you not prevail upon her to abandon this scheme?  Think what a complete sacrifice it will be.”