"You are but a child, Lily," he said, "inexperienced in the world's hard ways, and bringing only to your aid, in any difficulty you may be labouring under, a simple heart, unused to the artifice and cunning which surround us. I have learnt something of the world in my struggle; and although I have not learned to condemn it--for there is much that is beautiful in it, Lily--I have learned that it is often necessary to arm yourself with weapons that you despise, if you would save yourself from hurt. In battling with the world, a man must not wear his heart upon his sleeve--there are too many vultures about--he must not oppose a bare breast to foes whose breasts are mailed. I am expressing myself in this way, so as to make you understand that I--who, I would have you believe, despise meanness and unworthiness as heartily as it is in the power of man to do--feel the necessity of using weapons in life's battle which I would fain throw aside. There is nothing more noble than simplicity of heart--I worship it wherever I see it--but it is a weak weapon, as the world goes, and in most cases, where it is relied on solely, it becomes woefully bruised. Say that you are in any trouble, that any cloud hangs over your life, that you are threatened by storms which you see approaching to you nearer and nearer--how can _you_ meet them, Lily? What weapons have you at your command to save yourself from the peril? Simplicity, innocence, self-sacrifice! Relying only on these and on yourself, the storm breaks, and then----" He paused, and Lily did not speak. How precious his words were to her! How skilfully and delicately he had contrived to tell her that her happiness was dear to him! His voice was like music to her heart. "Then, Lily," he resumed, "think what occurs. It may be that I am wrong in my fears. How happy it would make me to know that it is so! But if I am right, think what may occur. You may bring misery not only to yourself but to others. You are moved by this thought, I see. Has it never occurred to you before? You have at home two whom you love--your brother and your grandfather. There is no need for me to say how dearly your grandfather loves you, and what anguish you may bring upon him if you allow suffering to come on yourself unprepared. In both your brother and your grandfather you should confide, and from your grandfather's larger experience of the world, and from his whole-hearted love for his dear child, good counsel would surely come, if counsel be needed. I should say, if I were asked, that were I in your place and needed counsel, I should deem it a matter of duty, as it is equally a matter of affection, to seek for it in one whose riper years qualify him for giving it, and whose life of love for his child is a sufficient warrant for his sincerity. I should say more than this, Lily, if you would allow me, and if you are not displeased with me----" "Go on, Felix. I honour you for what you are saying."