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 who has permitted himself to treat you with so much insolence.'

I never feel shocked at, or bear malice for, what is spoken in character; and most perfectly in character was that vulgar and violent onset against me, when he had quitted you worsted.'

You cease now to be Henry's tutor?'

I shall be parted from Henry for a while—if he and I live we shall meet again somehow, for we love each other—and be ousted from the bosom of the Sympson family for ever. Happily this change does not leave me stranded: it but hurries into premature execution designs long formed.'

No change finds you off your guard: I was sure, in your calm way, you would be prepared for sudden mutation. I always think you stand in the world like a solitary but watchful, thoughtful archer in a wood; and the quiver on your shoulder holds more arrows than one; your bow is provided with a second string. Such too is your brother's wont. You two might go forth homeless hunters to the loneliest western wilds; all would be well with you. The hewn tree would make you a hut, the cleared forest yield you fields from its stripped bosom, the buffalo would feel your rifle-shot, and with lowered horns and hump pay homage at your feet.'

And any Indian tribe of Black-feet, or Flat-heads, would afford us a bride, perhaps?'

No (hesitating): I think not. The savage is sordid: I think,—that is, I hope,—you would neither of you share your hearth with that to which you could not give your heart.'