"Where, or how shall I begin?"
"Who are you—what are you—and why are you sad?" said Lucy.
"Who am I? Yes, that will do very well," said he, suddenly assuming the quick flow of language most natural to him.
"Like your father, mine was a wealthy merchant; I was his only son, and he earnestly prided himself on bestowing upon me all the learning and accomplishments which money could procure. The advantages of a first-rate education, joined, perhaps, to some natural ability, enabled me to shine at the University; and I left Oxford to pursue the study of the bar in Lincoln's Inn, trusting to be able to use my money skilfully in the pursuit of fame; but how fallacious are all the expectations of human life! My father made some enormous speculations, and, after years of successful ventures, failed this once and for ever. He did not many days survive his loss, and dying broken-hearted, left me heir to his poverty; but how unfit for it—accustomed, from infancy, to the gratification of every whim—lavish in my expenditure, and boundless in my ambition, with nothing but a profession, yet untried, and a feeble dependence on a sick uncle. What a fall for one accustomed to all the elegances of life. But this was not all; I had at this time become acquainted with the daughter of a banker, reported to possess enormous wealth."
"What can be coming," thought Lucy, beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"I had not hesitated to seek her," continued Beauclerc; "she returned my affection, and we fondly looked forward to our union. But, when my poor father died, I felt that we must meet on different terms, and that I had no right to claim a promise given under such different circumstances. I felt, indeed, the curse of poverty, too bitterly, to wish to make her a sharer in it; and so I went to her at once, and offered to resign all pretensions to her hand."
"You may imagine how a generous warm-hearted girl would receive such an offer. She saw at once, that nothing but my love for her induced me to make it; and declared that she was ready to share my poverty, and would become my wife, as soon as I was able to marry. She only stipulated that I should enter on my professional duties, with some chance of success, in which case she promised to obtain her father's consent."
Lucy began to listen with that constrained attention which a person possessed by nightmare, might give to some horrid vision, from which they would willingly break, though obliged to wait its conclusion in silence. Beauclerc, however, seemed too much occupied by his own thoughts to regard hers, and presently, continued:—
"I was then almost without money or resources; but, being of a confident disposition, I felt there were few things which love could not surmount. I knew, besides, that my wife must be the heiress to her father's wealth, for she was an only child—but, as I was unable to settle any thing of my own upon her, I was timid of approaching the subject; particularly, as, whenever I did so, her father seemed so pained, that I instantly dropped it again. I could not but feel gratitude for this delicacy towards my feelings, and this trust in my honour, where so dear a child was concerned, and I resolved to deserve it. I was far too proud to be dependent on him; and, therefore, privately borrowed money on bond—took chambers, furnished a small house, and obtained a few briefs through the interest of some of my father's friends; and probably, had I been careful, I might have done well.
"This industrious commencement induced my intended father-in-law to give his consent to our marriage; and, in a few months, I had the satisfaction of seeing my wife at the head of a small, but elegant establishment. Poor thing, she had been so accustomed to the luxuries of her old home, that she never doubted me when I told her that mine was arranged with the greatest economy.