“Oh, one cannot be too ambitious, unless one is a man like Napoleon and thoroughly base and wicked. Then it’s wrong, of course. Now, if you want my advice--but perhaps you think I know nothing about these things?” “Miss Sartwell, I would rather have your advice than any one else’s in the world, and I will follow it to the letter.” “You _do_ take things too seriously. What a weight of responsibility you would place upon my shoulders! No, you must hear the advice first, and then judge whether it is best to follow it or not. I think you should work along quietly for a year or two, doing your very best and saying as little as possible. Father likes a man who does things, rather than one who says things. He doesn’t believe much in talk. Then, when you see he trusts you implicitly, perhaps by that time he will offer you the situation; but if he doesn’t, you let me know, and I will speak to him about it. Oh, I shall approach the subject very diplomatically. I shall begin by asking how you are getting on at the works, and if he speaks well of you, I will suggest that you be given a better position than the one you are in. How do you like my plan?” “It is an admirable one, but--but----” “But what? Where is the objection to it?” “There is no objection, except that I may get rather discouraged as time goes on.” “Oh, that is nonsense. You are interested in your work, are you not?” “Very much so, but if I could see you now and again, I--well--wouldn’t become hopeless or despondent, you see. If that could be managed----” Edna sat back in her chair, and looked straight at him with clear, wide eyes that seemed puzzled, trying to see beyond what was plainly in view. Marsten, burdened by the consciousness that he was not dealing honestly with her, yet afraid to awaken her too prematurely to the realities of the situation, was as confused as most single-minded persons are when placed in a false position from which there is no escape without risking disaster. For a moment there arose in his fast-beating heart an heroic determination to cast all caution to the winds, and cry out, “I love you, my girl, I love you; I am poor, and your father has forbidden me to see you;” but he feared a repulse from the girl, more fatal to his hopes than the check he had received from her father. He bent his gaze upon the ground and curbed his impatience. He realized that honesty had not been the best policy when he had inopportunely confessed his affection for the girl to her father, although he thought at the time he had taken a manly and straightforward course. Had he been less impulsive, and tried to win still farther the confidence of Sartwell, he might perhaps have ultimately gained a footing in his chief’s house, and then who knows what would have happened! He had drawn upon the bank of confidence, and his cheque had been dishonored: he could not risk a second mistake of that kind.