Hazard had not for a moment entertained the possibility of contesting his uncle's right to Patty. He was too loyal, too devoted to the man who had unostentatiously made so many sacrifices to him and his. In the lonely walk he had taken Sunday afternoon, when aunt Pamela had spoken of Putnam's love, the young man had fought with himself, and conquered. When he met Patty on the bridge, she was to him as belonging to another. There was in the lad a high chivalry, which caused him to regard things in a noble if somewhat overstrained temper. Mr. Putnam to him was not merely the uncle to whom he was warmly attached, but also the generous benefactor who had not spared himself to save the name and the welfare of his nephews. Hazard was not ignorant, that, but for Putnam, his father might have been publicly branded as the felon he was; and he knew, too, that sacrifices made to shield him had crippled his uncle's fortune. That this had prevented Tom's seeking from Patty the love which his nephew felt to be richly his due, was an added reason why in this, most of all things, no obstacle should come between Mr. Putnam and his desire. The boy's self-renunciation was a little Quixotic; but who more sadly noble than the crazy knight of La Mancha? There are, however, limits to all human endurance. To suffer and be strong is possible to many: to suffer and be silent is within the power of but few. Hazard had resolved never to speak of his love; but no one can judge the strength of a resolution until it has been tried by opportunity. There suddenly rushed over him a wave of boyish despair. One who voluntarily renounces pursuit, generally believes that he might have won; and to Hazard his act seemed the renunciation of a prize surely his. "Life is so hard!" he burst out suddenly, with all the hopelessness of despairing twenty. "Oh, no!" Patty returned lightly. "As Flossy says, 'life would be very pleasant, if it were not so much trouble to live.'" "But to live is so much trouble," he answered. "See what a life I've had! I wasn't asked if I wanted it; and, when I had been made to live, I didn't have my choice about it, in any way. You know that my father was a constant trouble to us,--everybody knew that,--and we all had to endure to be pitied; and pity is always half contempt." "O Hazard!" "Of course I don't mean from you," he said illogically enough; "but it is the truth. Then, mother was just worn into her grave by grief and poverty; and we boys had to stand by helpless, and see it."