“You!” he cried, “You! If anyone had told me that you would not stand by me in a difficulty, would not be my help in any trouble, I should not have believed it. It would have seemed impossible; and that you should take up arms _against_ me--against _me_!--_you_, Durant!” “Arthur,” said his friend, with great emotion, “let us speak plainly. You must always be to me, when you are in difficulty, the first person to be thought of. I cannot believe, any more than you can, in circumstances where I should not stand by you; but listen! you are not in difficulty now--you are on the verge, as I think, of a great mistake. Nothing can be more different. As your friend is bound to help you in trouble, so is he bound by every rule to do his best to extricate you now.” “To extricate me!” cried Arthur, with scorn. “From what? From love, happiness, and honour? Are these things from which to extricate a man? And not only so, but to work by underhand means to force me out of the position I have chosen, and which, whatever you may think of it, is Heaven to me.” “I have been working by no underhand means.” “What else can you call it? You might have said what you would to me. You were free to say what you liked; but to attack them--behind my back--” “Arthur,” said Durant, “it is useless to evade the matter; this is exactly one of those moments which are often fatal to friendship. You think you are on the eve of happiness. I think you are securing your own misery. Am I to help you to destroy yourself? do you think that is a duty of friendship? or is it not rather my part, by every possible means, to stop you before you go over the precipice?” “Your very words are an insult,” said Arthur; “to me, and to one who is more precious to me than myself.” “Yet I suppose I may have my opinion,” said Durant. “You cannot forbid me that. I say nothing against anybody. I only say this will be fatal to you, and it seems to me, if I could hinder it--” “You can no more hinder it than you can keep the sun from rising to-morrow.” “I am very sorry to hear it, Arthur. I would give a great deal if I could. Think what a change it will make in your life. You will not take your degree now. As for diplomacy, you are shut out from that--it would be impossible. So will Parliament be and the public life you once thought of. Your own business of a country gentleman you are kept from while your father lives. You have no time for anything else. Where will be your shooting, your fishing, your hunting in the season, your society? You will have to live on your allowance, sparely, economically, without a horse, without a margin. Everything given up for--what?” “For _her_--for happiness--for everything that makes life worth having.”