riage is usually considered the grave, and not the cradle of love. So you are about to love her, but do not already?"
"Do not catechise me, Lionel; I will do my duty by her, be assured. Love! I must steel my heart against that; expel it from its tower of strength, barricade it out: the fountain of love must cease to play, its waters be dried up, and all passionate thoughts attendant on it die—that is to say, the love which would rule me, not that which I rule. Idris is a gentle, pretty, sweet little girl; it is impossible not to have an affection for her, and I have a very sincere one; only do not speak of love—love, the tyrant and the tyrant-queller; love, until now my conqueror, now my slave; the hungry fire, the untameable beast, the fanged snakeno—no—I will have nothing to do with that love. Tell me, Lionel, do you consent that I should marry this young lady?"
He bent his keen eyes upon me, and my uncontrollable heart swelled in my bosom. I re-
