excuse for calling, after a brief interval had elapsed; and his visits soon fell again into their usual train. Vernon was obstinate; and the refusal—which would have decided the refined, or discouraged the timid—was to him merely an obstacle to be subdued. Looking upon women as infinitely inferior to men, he was provoked to think that the whim of a foolish girl should interfere with his settled purpose. His first plan, that of calling in paternal authority to his assistance, was disappointed by Clinton's instant and decided declaration, that, even if he had the will, he did not consider he had the right to force the inclination of his daughter: his approbation and his preference were all he could give.
Vernon was more angry and discontented than disheartened, and more stubborn in his pursuit than ever, though he left its issue to circumstances, and perhaps his rebukes took even a severer tone. He deceived his own mind, and soothed his own pride, by the belief that he was only actuated by a desire for her temporal and spiritual benefit;—he knew he could save her from poverty; he equally presumed he could from perdition. A lamb rescued from the slaughter, a brand snatched from the fire, was the constant phraseology of his very thoughts.
Weakened by illness, worn by vague anxiety—the worst form anxiety can take—looking at all life's hopes and wishes through the shadows flung by coming death, Clinton dwelt upon his friend’s offer till his strong wish grew, as wishes usually do,
