“You WILL not think so, I am certain. I am equally certain from what I know of you both, that you are secure from any such danger. It is not my object to pursue this reference, but let me ask you, William, looking at things in the most favorable light, has Margaret Cooper ever given you any encouragement?” “I can not say that she has, sir, but--” “Nay, has she not positively discouraged you? Does she not avoid you--treat you coldly when you meet--say little, and that little of a kind to denote--I will not say dislike--but pride, rather than love?” The young man said nothing. The old one proceeded:-- “You are silent, and I am answered. I have long watched your intercourse with this damsel, and loving you as my own son, I have watched it with pain. She is not for you, William. She loves you not. I am sure of it. I can not mistake the signs. She seeks other qualities than such as you possess. She seeks meretricious qualities, and yours are substantial. She seeks the pomps of mind, rather than its subdued performances. She sees not, and can not see, your worth; and whenever you propose to her, your suit will be rejected. You have not done so yet?” “No, sir--but I had hoped--” “I am no enemy, believe me, William, when I implore you to discard your hope in that quarter. It will do you no hurt. Your heart will suffer no detriment, but be as whole and vigorous a few years hence--perhaps months--as if it had never suffered any disappointment.” “I wish I could think so, sir.” “And you would not wish that you could think so, if you were not already persuaded that your first wish is hopeless.” “But I am not hopeless, sir.” “Your cause is. But, promise me that you will not press your suit at present.” The young man was silent. “You hesitate.” “I dare not promise.” “Ah, you are a foolish boy. Do you not see the rock on which you are about to split. You have never learned how to submit. This lesson of submission was that which made the Spartan boy famous. Here, you persist in your purpose, though your own secret convictions, as well as your friend's counsel, tell you that you strive against hope. You could not patiently submit to the counsel of this stranger, though he came directly from your parents, armed with authority to examine and to counsel.” “Submit to him! I would sooner perish!” exclaimed the indignant youth. “You will perish unless you learn this one lesson. But where now is your ambition, and what does it aim at?” The youth was silent. “The idea of an ambitious youth, at twenty, giving up book and candle, leaving his studies, and abandoning himself to despair, because his sweetheart won't be his sweetheart any longer, gives us a very queer idea of the sort of ambition which works in his breast.” “Don't, sir, don't, I pray you, speak any more in this manner.” “Nay, but, William, ask yourself. Is it not a queer idea?” “Spare me, sir, if you love me.”