Though I had not acted on the principle, I had always felt that a young man had no right to pay his addresses to a young lady without giving some account of himself to her father, or whoever might stand in the relation of her natural protector; certainly that it was incumbent on a gentleman to do so. I felt, therefore, that it was necessary for me before proceeding further in my pursuit of Eleanor Leigh to declare my intention to her father. My declaration to her had been the result of a furious impulse to which I had yielded; but now that I had cooled, my principle reasserted itself. One trouble was that I did not know Mr. Leigh. I determined to consult John Marvel, and I had a sneaking hope that he might not think it necessary for me to speak about it to him. I accordingly went around to his room and after he had gotten through with a tramp or two, who had come to bleed him of any little pittance which he might have left, he came in. I bolted into the middle of my subject.
"John, I am in love." I fancied that his countenance changed slightly—I thought, with surprise.
"Yes. I know you are."
"How did you know it? I am in love with Eleanor Leigh." His countenance changed a shade more, and he looked away and swallowed with a little embarrassment.
"Yes. I know that too."
"How did you know it?"
He smiled. John sometimes smiled rather sadly.
"I want you to help me."
"How?"
"I don't know. I have to go and ask Mr. Leigh."