But, alas! for the heart disease, which feeds upon the smile of one who, when sure that he holds it in his grasp, casts it from him, as children do a long coveted toy, of which they have grown weary. CHAPTER IX. PRO AND CON. On a pleasant May morning, in the spring succeeding the events narrated in the last chapter, the door of Dr. Clayton’s office was locked against all intruders. The shutters were closed; while within, with his feet upon a table and his hands clasped over his head, the doctor himself was revolving the all-important question—whether it were better to offer himself at once to Dell Thompson “and have it done with,” or to wait a few years for a _little girl_, who had recently crossed his pathway, leaving on his memory footprints he could not easily efface. For the benefit of any young men who may be similarly situated, we give a portion of his reasoning, as follows: “Now, I am as positive as a man need be that I can have either of them for the asking; therefore, in a case which involves the happiness of one’s whole life, it behooves me to consider the matter well. To be sure, if I follow the bent of my inclination, I am decided at once; but then, marriages of convenience sometimes prove just as pleasant as those of pure love; and so I’ll go over with the _pros_ and _cons_ of both, deciding upon the one which has the most of the former! “First, then, there’s _Rose_, a most beautiful name. Only think how refreshing it would be after riding ten or twelve miles, visiting farmer Stubbs or widow Grubbs, to know there was a _Rose_ watching for your return. Yes, her name is in her favor.” Here the hands came down from the head, and wrote one pro against the name of Rose, after which they resume their former position, and the doctor goes on with his soliloquy: “She is frank, artless, unassuming, means what she says—in short, she is perfectly natural, and I always feel refreshed after a talk with her.” (Makes _pro_ number 2.) “Then she is so wholly unselfish in her affection for me—loves me so devotedly—sees no fault in me whatever—thinks me handsome, I dare say, and all that.” Here glancing at himself in a little mirror opposite, and smoothing his shining moustache, the doctor waxes eloquent on said Rose’s supposed admiration for him, writing down, in the heat of his excitement two _pros_, making in all _four_! Verily, Rosa Lee, your prospect of becoming Mrs. Dr. Clayton is brightening fast. But to proceed: “She is smart, intelligent, talented, writes poetry—and, with proper training, would perhaps make a distinguished writer. Were I sure on this point, I should not hesitate; but you can’t tell what these precocious children will make; frequently they come to a stand-still.” And here, to make the matter sure, he writes against her name one _pro_ for what she possibly may be, and one _con_ for what she probably will not be!