“Then there is nothing more to be said,” replied Mr. Hillston coolly. “But you do not seem to like it.” “That has nothing to do with it. It is your affair, and if you are pleased, no one else has the right to say a word.” “Mr. Hillston,” said Ernest, suddenly lowering his voice from the high key of self-sufficiency and independence to a subdued tone, “you have been a father to me, and you know I have been guided by you. I have confidence in your judgment; and now if you see me about to commit an error, one that may wreck my happiness, ought not common charity, to say nothing of the relation you sustain to me, induce you to kindly point out my mistake? I can see clearly that you are not pleased at my prospective marriage. Now tell me plainly what is the matter?” “My dear Ernest,” said the old man, with the tenderness of a parent, “you know that I have ever treated you as one of my own children, and have ever consulted your interest. I would not hesitate to give you advice in this important matter if I knew how. I will only say this, if you will take no offence--” “No, no,” interrupted Ernest eagerly, “I will not. Go on, say what you please.” “Well, then, I fear that the great dissimilarity between your characters may prove a source of annoyance, if not trouble. You are grave and serious in your disposition, while Miss Clara is the very opposite.” “That may be true,” replied Ernest, “but might not this very dissimilarity be an advantage to both of us?” “It might, and then it might not. At any rate, therein lies the danger I apprehend. You ought to pray to God to direct you in so serious a business as this.” “But I am not a churchman, Mr. Hillston.” “You cannot regard God then as your friend?” “O yes, I suppose He is; but I do not know that God would concern Himself with so small an affair as my marriage.” “What! if God takes note of the flight of the sparrow, and the flower of the field, think you He will totally overlook the welfare of His intelligent creatures? Do you not believe the Lord has something to do with everything that happens?” “I do not know, sir. I am no Presbyterian. I understand they hold to some such doctrine as that. But I have never had any special liking for that denomination.” “Neither am I a Presbyterian. I am a Baptist, as you know. But do you suppose that Presbyterians are the only people who advocate the doctrine of special providence?” “I do not know that they are, but from all that I can learn, they push it to extremes.” “I believe it,” said Mr. Hillston, emphatically, “as firmly as any Presbyterian I ever saw, and I believe it to its fullest extent, and in all its bearings. I am not willing that the Presbyterians shall claim as a distinctive dogma of theirs a doctrine to which the Baptist Church holds with as much tenacity as they do.” “Do you believe, then, that God would concern Himself with so small a matter as the marriage of two human beings?” “I certainty do.”