And Helen chafed unconsciously that William Oswald should be content with this inglorious life. The humble teacher of the little girls of Fendie aspired to a higher intellectual firmament; there were ambitious hopes and dreams and wishes stirring in the bare school-room, enough to have startled the little town out of its propriety; wishes, and dreams, and hopes of a more daring kind than ever young lady in Fendie had entertained before; and Helen Buchanan scarcely ranked as a young lady. She was noticed by none of the magnates, and courted in no society--she was simply the school-mistress; the people of Fendie, young and old, would have been overwhelmed with astonishment to hear of her ambition. But William Oswald knew it, and his temper agreed as little as her own with the ease of inactivity. He was not the man to prefer the temporary pleasure of even her society, greatly as he prized it, to the necessary work of life; and he too had the upward tendency. He could not be content with the easy indolent satisfaction of competence, and already believing that the strong and vigorous youth within him was destined for something nobler than the businesses or amusements of the little country-town, his energy was stimulated by hers. They stood at this time almost upon terms of mutual defiance, yet each unconsciously supplemented the strength and had a share in all the secret purposes of the other. Their own individual combat was close and exciting, yet in the very act of resisting they invigorated each other for their several wrestles with the world without. They were neither of a very peaceable nature; it suited them to manage their wooing so. But William’s plans were laid. He had determined to return to Edinburgh to practise his profession. When he had won an independent position and name for himself--and to do that was of itself an end worth striving for--he felt that he should be much more likely to overcome the obstinate opposition of his father. The banker was proud of his family, and William, a known man, occupying a standing ground honourably acquired by his own exertions, might expect to be differently treated from William the unknown who had no other position than that which belonged to Mr Oswald’s son. His mother assented with a sigh; she foresaw a different end to the romance of her son’s youth. He also, the cold voice of experience prophesied, would learn to approve those views of worldly wisdom, would forget the generous impulses of young life--would acquiesce in the prudent decisions of his father. Mrs Oswald too was prudent; but her heart shrank from beholding the film of calculating foresight fall upon the frank vision of her only son. She could almost have chosen the imprudent marriage sooner than the chill wisdom which would make it impossible.