And then she remembered what he was, what was the manner of his life, what his character; how different he was from Alaric or Harry Norman; she remembered this, and knew that her love was an unhappy passion.

Herself she would have sacrificed: prisoner as he had been, debtor as he was, drunkard, penniless, and a spendthrift, she would not have hesitated to take him for her guide through life, and have done what a woman might to guide him in return.

But she would not sacrifice her mother.

She saw now why Charley was not asked, and silently acquiesced in his banishment.
She was not yet quite seventeen.

Not yet seventeen! the reader will say.