“I do not think about it.”

“You do not conceive it would be any disfavour to either of them to induce her to accept me, I suppose. —­ What do you say?”

“You are indifferent towards which of them the suit should incline?” said Winthrop.

“Why, that’s as it may be —­ I haven’t thought enough about it to know.  They’re a pretty fair pair to choose from —­”

“Supposing that you have the choice,” said Winthrop.

“Do you know anything to the contrary? —­Has anybody else a fairer entrance than myself?”

“I am not on sufficiently near terms with the family to be able to inform you.”

“Do you think of entering your plough, Governor?”

“Not in your field.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I am not in your way.”

“Shall I be in yours?”

“No,” said his brother coolly.

“In whose way then?”

“I am afraid in your own, Will.”

“How do you mean?” asked the other a little fiercely.

“If you are so intent upon marrying money-bags, you may chance to get a wife that will not suit you.”

“You must explain yourself!” said Rufus haughtily.  “In what respect would either of these two not suit me?”

“Of two so different, it may safely be affirmed that if one would the other would not.”

“Two so different!” said Rufus.  “What’s the matter with either of them?”

“There is this the matter with both —­that you do not know them.”

“I do know them!”

“From the rest of the world; but not from each other.”

“Why not from each other?”

“Not enough for your liking or your judgment to tell which would suit you.”

“Why would not either suit?” said Rufus.

“I think —­ if you ask me —­ that one would not make you happy, in the long run; and the other, with your present views and aims, you could not make happy.”

“Which is which?” said Rufus, laughing and drawing up a chair opposite his brother.

“Either of them is which,” said Winthrop.  “Such being the case, I don’t know that it is material to inquire.”

“It is very material! for I cannot be satisfied without the answer.  I am in earnest in the whole matter, Winthrop.”

“So am I, very much in earnest.”

“Which of them should I not make happy?” —­ Rufus went on. —­ “Rose? —­ She is easily made happy.”

“So easily, that you would be much more than enough for it.”

“Then it is the other one whose happiness you are afraid for?”

“I don’t think it is in much danger from you.”

“Why? —­what then?” said Rufus quickly.

“I doubt whether any one could succeed with her whose first object was something else.”

Rufus drew his fingers through his hair, in silence, for about a minute and a half; with a face of thoughtful and somewhat disagreeable consideration.