The young countess sprang from her seat, and threw herself at the old man's knees which she fondly clasped.
"No, no, my more, my more dear than father, I will not leave you. How vain, how selfish have I been! Why did you suffer me to marry—nay, what is Lord Marchmont to me? I will stay here happy, ah, too happy, in devoting all life to the debt of gratitude—nay, not gratitude, of love—that I owe to you."
Sir Jasper struggled for a moment,—'twas only for a moment—and the strong emotion was subdued.
"Not thus, my sweet child: the laws of nature are immutable: and they have decreed that the young bird shall leave the nest. Do not weep, my beloved girl: of what avail were it to keep you here until your loveliness and youth had departed. Even with your gladdening presence, I cannot now number many years; and to feel that I was leaving you lonely and defenceless—unpractised, too, in that world which requires all youth's energies to encounter—would embitter even the pang of death! No—my best beloved Henrietta—I would have you
