Melchior de Willading listened to the
short ceremony with silent self-approval. He felt disposed at that instant
to believe he had wisely sacrificed the interests of the world to the
right, a sentiment that was a little quickened by the uncertainty which
still hung over the origin of his new son, who might yet prove to be all
that he could hope, as well as by the momentary satisfaction he found in
manifesting his independence by bestowing the hand of his daughter upon
one whose merit was so much better ascertained than his birth. In this
manner do the best deceive themselves, yielding frequently to motives that
would not support investigation when they believe themselves the strongest
in the right. The good-natured clavier had observed the wavering and
uncertain character of the baron's decision, and he had been induced to
urge his particular request to be the officiating priest by a secret
apprehension that, descended again into the scenes of the world, the
relenting father might become, like most other parents of these nether
regions, more disposed to consult the temporal advancement than the true
happiness of his child.
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