From such people, too, she will choose her friends, knowing that, even among the humblest of them, there are many worthy of her regard and affection.

What have we to mourn in the world we have left behind us?
We are the last of our name and race; fortune has left us nothing to regret.

My only relative on earth, saving yourself, Roland,--saving yourself, my cousin, my brother,"-- her lip quivered, and, for a moment her eyes were filled with tears,--"my only other living relation resides in this wilderness-land; and she, tenderly nurtured as myself, finds in it enough to engage her thoughts and secure her happiness.

Why, then, should not I?
Why should not _you_?
Trust me, dear Roland, I should myself be as happy as the day is long, could I only know that you did not grieve for me." "I cannot but choose it," said Roland.

"It is to me you owe the loss of fortune and your present banishment from the world." "Say not so, Roland, for it is not true; no! I never can believe that our poor uncle would have carried his resentment, for such a cause, so far.
But supposing that he could, and granting that all were as you say, I am prouder to be the poor cousin of Roland Forrester, who has bled in the battles of his country, than if I were the rich and courted kinswoman of one who had betrayed the memory of his father." "You are, at least, an angel," said the youth; "and I am but a villain to say or do anything to give you pain.