like those I see:—my education, my habits, my feelings are different; I am like one uncivilized and savage; and if you place me in society, you will have to blush every hour for the faults I shall involuntarily commit. Besides this objection, "my temper—I am more violent—Oh that it were not so; but can I, ought I, to deceive you?". . . "You are all that is noble, frank and generous: you shall guide me," said Lord Avondale; "and I will protect you. Be mine:—fear me not:—your principles, I venerate; your religion I will study—will learn—will believe in.—What more?"
Lord Avondale sought, and won that strange uncertain being, for whom he was about to sacrifice so much. He considered not the lengthened journey of life—the varied scenes through which they were to pass; where all the qualities in which she was wholly deficient would be so often and so absolutely required—discretion, prudence, firm and steady
