CHAPTER XLVI.
In conversing with Mr. Stanley on my happy prospects, and my future plans; after having referred all concerns of a pecuniary nature to be settled between him and Sir John Belfield, I ventured to entreat that he would crown his goodness, and my happiness, by allowing me to solicit his daughter for an early day.
Mr. Stanley said, the term early was relative; but he was afraid that he should hardly consent to what I might consider even as a late one. "In parting with such a child as Lucilla," added he, "some weaning time must be allowed to the tenderest of mothers. The most promising marriage, and surely none can promise more happiness than that to which we are looking, is a heavy trial to fond parents. To have trained a creature with anxious fondness, in hope of her repaying their solicitude hereafter by the charms of her society, and then as soon as she becomes capable of being a friend and companion, to lose her forever, is such a trial, that I sometimes wonder at the seeming impatience of parents to get rid of a treasure, of which they best know the value. The sadness which attends the consummation even of our dearest hopes on these occasions, is one striking instance of that Vanity of human wishes, on which Juvenal and Johnson have so beautifully expatiated.
"A little delay indeed I shall require, from motives of prudence as well as fondness. Lucilla will not be nineteen these three months and more. You will not, I trust, think me unreasonable if I say, that neither her mother nor myself can consent to part with her before that period."
"Three months!" exclaimed I, with more vehemence than politeness. "Three months! it is impossible."
"It is very possible," said he, smiling, "that you can wait, and very certain that we shall not consent sooner."
"Have you any doubts, sir," said I, "have you any objections which I can remove, and which, being removed, may abridge this long probation?"
"None," said he, kindly. "But I consider even nineteen as a very early age; too early, indeed, were not my mind so completely at rest about you on the grand points of religion, morals, and temper, that no delay could, I trust, afford me additional security. You will, however, my dear Charles, find so much occupation in preparing your affairs and your mind for so important a change, that you will not find the time of absence so irksome as you fancy."
"Absence, sir?" replied I. "What then, do you intend to banish me?"