No, my dear Maltravers, do not think of marriage yet a while; and if there is any danger of it, come over to me immediately.
But if I warn you against a lawful tie, how much more against an illicit one?
You are precisely at the age, and of the disposition, which render the temptation so strong and so deadly.

With you it might not be the sin of an hour, but the bondage of a life.

I know your chivalric honour--your tender heart; I know how faithful you would be to one who had sacrificed for you.

But that fidelity, Maltravers, to what a life of wasted talent and energies would it not compel you! Putting aside for the moment (for that needs no comment) the question of the grand immorality--what so fatal to a bold and proud temper, as to be at war with society at the first entrance into life?
What so withering to manly aims and purposes, as the giving into the keeping of a woman, who has interest in your love, and interest against your career which might part you at once from her side--the control of your future destinies?
I could say more, but I trust what I have said is superfluous; if so, pray assure me of it.

Depend upon this, Ernest Maltravers, that if you do not fulfil what nature intended for your fate, you will be a morbid misanthrope, or an indolent voluptuary--wrenched and listless in manhood, repining and joyless in old age.