Do you think you have enough for both; and do you imagine your merry, thoughtless profligate would allow himself to be guided by a young girl like you ?' 'No; I should not wish to guide him; but I think I might have influence sufficient to save him from some errors, and I should think my life well spent in the effort to preserve so noble a nature from destruction.

He always listens attentively now when I speak seriously to him (and I often venture to reprove his random way of talking), and sometimes he says that if he had me always by his side he should never do or say a wicked thing, and that a little daily talk with me would make him quite a saint.

It may he partly jest and partly flattery, but still--' 'But still you think it may be truth ?' 'If I do think there is any mixture of truth in it, it is not from confidence in my own powers, but in his natural goodness.

And you have no right to call him a profligate, aunt; he is nothing of the kind.' 'Who told you so, my dear?
What was that story about his intrigue with a married lady--Lady who was it ?--Miss Wilmot herself was telling you the other day ?' 'It was false--false!' I cried.

'I don't believe a word of it.' 'You think, then, that he is a virtuous, well-conducted young man ?' 'I know nothing positive respecting his character.