“And there is more than that,” said Mrs. Preston. “It would not be right for him to consent, nor for me either. If you only found it out so suddenly, how can you be sure of your own mind, Mr. John--and you so young? I don’t say any thing of my own child. I don’t mean to say in my heart that I think you too grand for her. I know if ever there was a lady born it’s--; but that’s not the question,” she continued, nervously wringing her hands again. “If she was a princess, she’s been brought up different from you. I did think once there might have been a way of getting over that; but I know better now; and you’re very young; and from what you say,” said Pamela’s mother, who, after all, was a woman, a little romantic and very proud, “I don’t think you’re one that would be content to give up every thing for love.” Jack had been listening calmly enough, not making much in his own mind of her objections; but the last words did strike home. He started, and he felt in his heart a certain puncture, as if the needle in Mrs. Preston’s work, which lay on the table, had gone into him. This at least was true. He looked at her with a certain defiance, and yet with respect. “For love--no,” said Jack half fiercely, stirred, like a mere male creature as he was, by the prick of opposition; and then a softening came over his eyes, and a gleam came into them which, even by the light of the one pale candle, made itself apparent; “but for Pamela--yes. I’ll tell you one thing, Mrs. Preston,” he added, quickly, “I should not call it giving up. I don’t mean to give up. As for my father, I don’t see what he has to do with it. I can work for my wife as well as any other fellow could. If I were to say it didn’t matter, you might mistrust me; but when a man knows it does matter,” said Jack, again warming with his subject, “when a man sees it’s serious, and not a thing to be done without thinking, you can surely rely upon him more than if he went at it blindly? I think so at least.” So saying, Jack stopped, feeling a little sore and _incompris_. If he had made a fool of himself, no doubt the woman would have believed in him; but because he saw the gravity of what he was about to do, and felt its importance, a kind of doubt was in his hearer’s heart. “They not only expect a man to be foolish, but they expect him to forget his own nature,” Jack said to himself, which certainly was hard. “I don’t mistrust you,” said Mrs. Preston, but her voice faltered, and did not quite carry out her words; “only, you know, Mr. John, you are very young. Pamela is very young, but you are even younger than she is--I mean, you know, because you are a man; and how can you tell that you know your own mind? It was only to-day that you found it out, and to-morrow you might find something else out--”