“Exactly, sir; I have entertained that notion myself,” he said; and his breast narrowed and his features grew sharp.

“And, if I may suggest such matters to you, I would advise you to see very little company for some years to come.”

“There, sir, you only anticipate my previously formed resolution.  With a knavery on my conscience, and a giddy-pated girl on my hands, and the doors of the London world open to me, I should scarcely have been capable of serious work.  The precious metal, which is Knowledge, sir, is only to be obtained by mining for it; and that excellent occupation necessarily sends a man out of sight for a number of years.  In the meantime, ’mea virtute me involvo.’”

“You need not stop short,” said his father, with a sardonic look for the concluding lines.

“The continuation is becoming in the mouth of a hero; but humbler persons must content themselves not to boast the patent fact, I think.”  Edward warmed as he spoke.  “I am ready to bear it.  I dislike poverty; but, as I say, I am ready to bear it.  Come, sir; you did me the honour once to let me talk to you as a friend, with the limits which I have never consciously overstepped; let me explain myself plainly and simply.”

Sir William signified, “Pray speak,” from the arms of his chair! and Edward, standing, went on:  “After all, a woman’s devotion is worth having, when one is not asked for the small change every ten minutes.  I am aware of the philosophic truth, that we get nothing in life for which we don’t pay.  The point is, to appreciate what we desire; and so we reach a level that makes the payment less—­” He laughed.  Sir William could hardly keep back the lines of an ironical smile from his lips.

“This,” pursued the orator, “is not the language for the Colonial Bar.  I wish to show you that I shall understand the character of my vocation there.  No, sir; my deeper wish is that you may accept my view of the sole course left to a man whose sense of honour is of accord with the inclination of his heart, and not in hostility to his clearer judgement.”

“Extremely forensic,” said Sir William, not displeased by the promise of the periods.

“Well, sir, I need not remark to you that rhetoric, though it should fail to convey, does not extinguish, or imply the absence of emotion in the speaker; but rather that his imagination is excited by his theme, and that he addresses more presences than such as are visible.  It is, like the Roman mask, fashioned for large assemblages.”

“By a parity of reasoning, then,”—­Sir William was seduced into colloquy,—­“an eternal broad grin is not, in the instance of a dualogue, good comedy.”

“It may hide profound grief.”  Edward made his eyes flash.  “I find I can laugh; it would be difficult for me to smile.  Sir, I pray that you will listen to me seriously, though my language is not of a kind to make you think me absolutely earnest in what I say, unless you know me.”