He cared no longer for Maltravers--he had put him to use--he could not be sorry for his departure, for that departure was the Avatar of His appearance to a new world.
A small dull rain was falling, though, at intervals, the stars broke through the unsettled clouds, and Teresa did not therefore venture from the house; she presented her smooth cheek to the young guest to salute, pressed him by the hand, and bade him adieu with tears in her eyes.
"Ah!" said she, "when we meet again I hope you will be married--I shall love your wife dearly.

There is no happiness like marriage and home!" and she looked with ingenuous tenderness at De Montaigne.
Maltravers sighed;--his thoughts flew back to Alice.

Where now was that lone and friendless girl, whose innocent love had once brightened a home for _him_?
He answered by a vague and mechanical commonplace, and quitted the room with De Montaigne, who insisted on seeing him depart.
As they neared the lake, De Montaigne broke the silence.
"My dear Maltravers," he said, with a serious and thoughtful affection in his voice, "we may not meet again for years.

I have a warm interest in your happiness and career--yes, _career_--I repeat the word.

I do not habitually seek to inspire young men with ambition.