“I hate nobody.  God send, that I may be treated the same.  George, you have flashed your sword only in a noble quarrel, will you now stain it with the blood of a man below your anger or consideration?  You have had your follies, and I have smiled at them; knowing well, that a man who has no follies in his youth, will have in his maturity no power.  But now you have come of age, not only in years but in suffering cheerfully endured and well outlived; so I may talk to you as a man, and not command you as a father.”

“What do you wish me to do, sir?”

“I advise you to write to Miss Moran at once.  Tell her you are more anxious now to redeem your promise, than ever you were before.  Say to her that I already look upon her as a dear daughter, and am taking immediate steps to settle upon you the American Manor, and also such New York property as will provide for the maintenance of your family in the state becoming your order and your expectations.  Tell her that my lawyers will go to this business to-morrow, and that as soon as the deeds are in your hand, you will come and ask for the interview with Doctor Moran, so long and cruelly delayed.”

“My dear father!  How wise and kind you are!”

“It is my desire to be so, George.  You cannot, after this unfortunate delay, go to Doctor Moran without the proofs of your ability to take care of his daughter’s future.”

“How soon can this business be accomplished?”

“In about three weeks, I should think.  But wait your full time, and do not go without the credentials of your position.  This three or four weeks is necessary to bring to perfection the waiting of two years.”

“I will take your advice, sir.  I thank you for your generosity.”

“All that I have is yours, George.  And you can write to this dear girl every day in the interim.  Go now and tell her what I say.  I had other dreams for you as you know—­they are over now—­I have awakened.”

“Dear Annie!” ejaculated George.

“Dear Annie!” replied the Earl with a sigh.  “She is one of the daughters of God, I am not worthy to call her mine; but I have sat at her feet, and learned how to love, and how to forgive, and how to bear disappointment.  I will tell you, that when Colonel Saye insulted me last year, and I felt for my sword and would have sent him a letter on its point—­Annie stepped before him.  ‘Forget, and go on, dear uncle,’ she said; and I did so with a proud, sore heart at first, but quite cheerfully in a week or two; and at the last Hunt dinner he came to me with open hand, and we ate and drank together, and are now firm friends.  Yet, but for Annie, one of us might be dead; and the other flying like Cain exiled and miserable.  Think of these things, George.  The good of being a son, is to be able to profit from your father’s mistakes.”