"
"It is odd that a man like you should know anything of old Spanish
proverbs!"
"What? Of _such_ a proverb, think you, Miles? A man without even
a father or mother--who never had either, as one may say--and he not
remember such a proverb! Boy, boy, I never forget anything that so
plainly recalls the tomb-stone, and the basket, and the Alms-House,
and Moses, and the names!"
"But Miss Merton might object to the present generation," I resumed,
willing to draw my companion from his bitter thoughts, "however
favourably disposed her father might prove to the last."
"That will be your own fault, then. Here you have her, but on the
Pacific Ocean, all to yourself; and if you cannot tell your own story,
and that in a way to make her believe it, you are not the lad I take
you for."
I made an evasive and laughing answer; but, being quite near the tent
by this time, it was necessary to change the discourse. The reader may
think it odd, but that was the very first time the possibility of my
marrying Emily Merton ever crossed my mind. In London, I had regarded
her as an agreeable acquaintance, with just as much of the colouring
of romance and of the sentimental about our intercourse, as is common
with youths of nineteen and girls a little younger; but as nothing
more. When we met on the island, Emily appeared to me like a friend--a
_female_ friend--and, of course, one to be viewed with peculiarly
softened feelings; still, as only a friend.
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