and practical knowledge displayed, he could not help exclaiming, "What would I give for such a secretary?"
"Give! you know you will give nothing; it is my misfortune to have such an incorruptible chief. But I shall continue to work for you, because you are your son's father."
Yet Glentworth was aware his bank-notes, like Acres's courage, must ooze out for all this kindness; but he did also see that her heart was in the business, that her gay and busy, her proud and aspiring, days had returned; and, as she had asserted and shewn the night before, that, as either on Granard's account or his friend's, she had been a busy woman at eleven elections, and never lost one, he could not forbear considering her a lucky person. Like Lord Meersbrook, his anxiety made him a little superstitious. The wisest of men do not walk on the stilts of philosophy through the whole of life's paths; and, since it is allowed that sorrow may have its phantoms, love its presentiments,*[1] why should not ambition (the meaner passion) be allowed its lucky numbers and lucky days!
"The most fortunate thing in the world for you,'" continued Lady Anne, "would be, were it possible, to secure the companionship of this young sailor;
- ↑ * "Presentiment is the superstition of tender hearts."—Madame de Stael.
