I laughed at the imitation, which was perfect, and said, 'Well, I suppose it is all nonsense--wishing, wishing! Uncle Bryan would be right if he said that, Jessie, and it's just what he _would_ say, if he had the opportunity. Most of the great men I've read about had to work and wait for success. The other night, when uncle Bryan was in one of his amiable moods, he said that success was like the robbers' cavern in _The Forty Thieves_, and that there was one magic key which would always open it. When I asked him what that key was, he said, Earnestness.' 'That's one of the things that uncle Bryan would never give me credit for.' 'Uncle Bryan is very unjust and very unkind. Let us turn back and walk a little. The night is so beautiful and I feel so happy at this minute that I should like it to last for ever.' Jessie's hand stole into mine, and I held it close; the silence that followed was broken by Jessie. 'Why would you like to be rich, Chris?' 'For your sake, Jessie, more than for my own. If I could give you all that you desired, I shouldn't wish for anything more.' 'You are very good to me, Chris. Why?' 'Because I love you, Jessie,' I replied. 'Really and truly?' she exclaimed, half tenderly, half tantalisingly. 'With all my heart and soul,' I said, in a low passionate tone. 'When one loves like that' (she was speaking seriously now), 'what does it really mean?' 'I can only speak of myself, and I know that there is no sacrifice I would not make for you. I am sure there is nothing you could ask me to do that I would not do; if I could die to make you happy, I would do so gladly, Jessie.' 'But I don't want you to die, Chris; what should I do without you? Then when one loves really and truly, and with one's heart and soul, there is no selfishness in it? One doesn't think of oneself?' 'I think of nothing but you, Jessie. I should like to be successful, for your sake; I should like to be rich, for your sake. Now do you understand?' She did not reply, and when presently I ventured to look into her face, I saw that there were tears in her eyes. 'You are not angry with me, Jessie?' 'I should be an ungrateful girl indeed, if I were. No, Chris. I love to hear you speak to me as you have done. I was only thinking that I wished others were like you.' 'You mean uncle Bryan,' I said, with a quick apprehension of the direction of her thoughts. 'But he takes pains to make people dislike him. Besides, he is at war with everything--he is, Jessie! He never goes to church; he never opens a Bible. I believe,' I added, my voice sinking to a whisper, 'that he is an atheist.' (And I said to myself mentally, as I gazed into Jessie's sweet face, If he does not believe in God, it is less strange that he does not believe in you.')