Clara could not fail to understand his meaning, and now, for the first time, it occurred to her what a gloomy life she must lead with this solemn man of books. She had no great taste for literature: Ernest, on the other hand, was a thorough bibliophilist. He would, no doubt, want her to read to him what he called light literature, which would prove rather heavy to her; and he would expect her to be deeply interested in it. Xerxes, on the contrary, would be a gay companion, and would take her to balls, theaters, and other places of amusement. This comparison passed rapidly through her mind. “Do you not think that will be a pleasant way to spend life?” asked Ernest, after the pause that followed his last remark. “It may be for those who like it,” she answered very dryly. “Don’t you think,” asked Ernest, “that intellectual pleasures are the most solid and substantial of all? I take the view that we are put here to cultivate our minds and hearts, and not to be creatures of mere sensuality. How much better are we than the brutes, if our whole aim is only to ‘eat, drink, and be merry.’ That is the way they spend the golden hours of life.” “I suppose you mean, then, to call me a brute,” said Clara, inclined to pout. “No, no,” cried Ernest quickly, “I had no such meaning.” “But I cannot enjoy books like you. You know that,” she said peevishly. “You will learn, though, I trust.” “I don’t think I ever will,” she replied. “What do you like, then?” inquired Ernest, trying to smile. “Things that you don’t, it seems. I like theaters and dances.” “But in the course of time you will desire pleasures more substantial than these.” “I don’t know that I will.” Clara seemed to be out of humor all that evening, and when Ernest left his heart was filled with misgivings. He thought and feared that he had discovered a change in her manner toward him. She was evidently more distant than she had been since their engagement. He was melancholy. But what could he do to put an end to this dreadful suspense? He determined that he would persuade Clara to appoint an earlier day for their marriage. Availing himself of the privilege allowed him, Xerxes called the next evening. This young man had traveled considerably, and had lived in the city of New York for several years. He had not been seated long before he gave Clara an animated description of the theaters of Paris. She listened like one entranced. Perceiving her profound interest, he soon discovered how to entertain her. “How I should like to travel,” said Clara, with a deep-drawn sigh. “Yes, it is very pleasant to make the tour of the world with a congenial companion.” “I should think so,” she said. “Which city do you like best?”