doubtful but if attained must bring many a regret and heartache in its train. Beauty is not sufficient,” he went on with sterner and sterner significance, “though it were of an angelic order. There must be worth.” And here his mind’s eye if not that of his bodily sense, certainly followed the glance of his companion.
“I believe there is worth,” the young man replied; “certainly, it is not her beauty that charms me. I do not even know if she is beautiful,” he continued.
“And you believe you love!” the elder exclaimed after another short pause.
There was so much of bitterness in the tone in which this was uttered, that Mandeville forgot its incredulity. “I think I must,” returned he with a certain masculine naivete not out of keeping with his general style of face and manner, “else I should not be here. Three weeks ago I was satisfied with my profession, if not enthusiastic over it; today I ask nothing but to be