“Stuff!” he cried impatiently, looking wistfully at the men’s faces going by,—­“stuff! We look like gallants to ride a tilt at the world, and die for Honor and Fame,—­we!”

“I thank God, Willie, you are not called upon for any such sacrifice.”

“Ah, little mother, well you may!” he answered, smiling, and taking her hand,—­“well you may, for I am afraid I should fall dreadfully short when the time came; and then how ashamed you’d be of your big boy, who took his ease at home, with the great drums beating and the trumpets blowing outside.  And yet—­I should like to be tried!”

“See, mother!” he broke out again,—­“see what a life it is, getting and spending, living handsomely and doing the proper thing towards society, and all that,—­rubbing through the world in the old hereditary way; though I needn’t growl at it, for I enjoy it enough, and find it a pleasant enough way, Heaven knows.  Lazy idler! enjoying the sunshine with the rest.  Heigh-ho!”

“You have your profession, Willie.  There’s work there, and opportunity sufficient to help others and do for yourself.”

“Ay, and I’ll do it!  But there is so much that is poor and mean, and base and tricky, in it all,—­so much to disgust and tire one,—­all the time, day after day, for years.  Now if it were only a huge giant that stands in your way, you could out rapier and have at him at once, and there an end,—­laid out or triumphant.  That’s worth while!”

“O youth, eager and beautiful,” thought the mother who listened, “that in this phase is so alike the world over,—­so impatient to do, so ready to brave encounters, so willing to dare and die!  May the doing be faithful, and the encounters be patiently as well as bravely fought, and the fancy of heroic death be a reality of noble and earnest life.  God grant it!  Amen.”

“Meanwhile,” said the gay voice,—­“meanwhile it’s a pleasant world; let us enjoy it! and as to do this is within the compass of a man’s wit, therefore will I attempt the doing.”

While he was talking he had once more come to the window, and, looking out, fastened his eyes unconsciously but intently upon the face of a young girl who was slowly passing by,—­unconsciously, yet so intently that, as if suddenly magnetized, a flicker of feeling went over it; the mouth, set with a steady sweetness, quivered a little; the eyes—­dark, beautiful eyes—­were lifted to his an instant, that was all.  The mother beside him did not see; but she heard a long breath, almost a sigh, break from him as he started, then flashed out of the room, snatching his hat in the hall, and so on to the street, and away.