’"What sort of person, landlord?”

’"Why, he was a dark officer-looking mon, at they called Colonel.  Squoire Mervyn questioned me as close as I had been at ’sizes.  I had guess, Mr. Dawson” (I told you that was my feigned name), “but I tould him nought of your vagaries, and going out a-laking in the mere a-noights, not I; an I can make no sport, I’se spoil none; and Squoire Mervyn’s as cross as poy-crust too, mon; he’s aye maundering an my guests but land beneath his house, though it be marked for the fourth station in the survey.  Noa, noa, e’en let un smell things out o’ themselves for Joe Hodges.”

’You will allow there was nothing for it after this but paying honest Joe Hodges’s bill and departing, unless I had preferred making him my confidant, for which I felt in no way inclined.  Besides, I learned that our ci-devant Colonel was on full retreat for Scotland, carrying off poor Julia along with him.  I understand from those who conduct the heavy baggage that he takes his winter quarters at a place called Woodbourne, in —–­shire in Scotland.  He will be all on the alert just now, so I must let him enter his entrenchments without any new alarm.  And then, my good Colonel, to whom I owe so many grateful thanks, pray look to your defence.

’I protest to you, Delaserre, I often think there is a little contradiction enters into the ardour of my pursuit.  I think I would rather bring this haughty insulting man to the necessity of calling his daughter Mrs. Brown than I would wed her with his full consent, and with the King’s permission to change my name for the style and arms of Mannering, though his whole fortune went with them.  There is only one circumstance that chills me a little:  Julia is young and romantic.  I would not willingly hurry her into a step which her riper years might disapprove; no—­nor would I like to have her upbraid me, were it but with a glance of her eye, with having ruined her fortunes, far less give her reason to say, as some have not been slow to tell their lords, that, had I left her time for consideration, she would have been wiser and done better.  No, Delaserre, this must not be.  The picture presses close upon me, because I am aware a girl in Julia’s situation has no distinct and precise idea of the value of the sacrifice she makes.  She knows difficulties only by name; and, if she thinks of love and a farm, it is a ferme ornee, such as is only to be found in poetic description or in the park of a gentleman of twelve thousand a year.  She would be ill prepared for the privations of that real Swiss cottage we have so often talked of, and for the difficulties which must necessarily surround us even before we attained that haven.  This must be a point clearly ascertained.  Although Julia’s beauty and playful tenderness have made an impression on my heart never to be erased, I must be satisfied that she perfectly understands the advantages she foregoes before she sacrifices them for my sake.