“Stay, stay—my _dear_ fellow, stay!” interrupted the old man, with a troubled look. “This is all nonsense, now! Zuleime is a child. And you have not known her more than six weeks. Love Zuleime! Pooh, pooh! You young men are so flighty and fickle in your fancies! You get frantic about every new face you see, and think yourselves in love! Pooh, pooh! Now, Frank, my boy, come! let’s hear no more of it! It’s all nonsense! You young officers are always in love, or fancying yourselves so! I dare say, you have been in love with all the daughters of all your commanders, and Heaven forefend, a little platonically smitten with all their wives, too! Come, I know you! Nonsense! Let’s hear no more of it!” “Mr. Clifton, I am no trifler in matters of the affections. I never _have_ been. I never _shall_ be, I hope! And when I tell you, upon my sacred honor, that never in my life have I ‘flirted,’ as it is called, with a woman—that never in my life have I either loved or addressed the language of love to a woman—except Zuleime—you will believe me!” “_Oh-h-h-h!_” exclaimed the old gentleman, with an exceedingly bored look. “It’s all _folly_, all _nonsense_, I tell you! A sudden fancy! Nothing more! Let’s drop the subject.” “Mr. Clifton,” said the young man, gravely and sorrowfully, for he saw that the old gentleman rather evaded than denied or accepted his suit, “I have never, in my whole life, been addicted to taking sudden and evanescent fancies, as you might judge, from what I told you! And when I tell you that I love your daughter Zuleime, I mean that I love her sincerely and earnestly, with my whole heart and soul—and that I shall love her to the last hour of my life!” “Bah! bah! It’s all _tom-foolery_, I tell you! You get yourself shut up in a country house with a pretty girl, and _of course_ you fall in love with her! _To be sure!_ What else could you do? It’s expected of you! You’d disappoint us if you didn’t! But it is such love as will not outlast your journey to your regiment.” “It will outlast my life! I know it will! I feel it will!” said Frank, earnestly, vehemently. “Tah! tah! tah!—you’ll fall desperately in love with the first pretty squaw of the friendly tribes who shall come to bring moccasins to your frontier fort!” “Oh, God!” groaned the young man, bitterly, dropping his face into his hands. “There is no way of making a serious impression upon you, and I am going away in two hours!” His tone and manner so affected the really impressible and benevolent old gentleman, that he half embraced him with his fat arm, saying— “Now _don’t_, Frank! _Do_ be a good boy! _Don’t! Do!_ It’s all _folly_ now! _Indeed_ it is! _Do! Don’t!_ Now consider—how many pretty girls there are in the world! _Don’t_, Frank! A great deal prettier than my girl. Never fret about her. _Do_, Frank. Besides, she’s so young! A mere school-girl. Only fifteen last Monday. Pooh, pooh! Not to be thought of, you know! Far too young!”