“I was not thinking of that, my boy.  What struck me was how people put their trust in riches without knowing it.”

“Indeed I should have given up all wealth and luxury.  I am not regretting that!” exclaimed Armine, in unconscious blindness.

“I did not say you were.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Armine, thinking he had not caught the words.

“I said people did not know how they put their trust in riches.”

“I never thought I did.”

“Only that you think nothing can be done without them.”

“I don’t see how it can.”

“Don’t you?  Well, the longer I live the more cause I see to dread and distrust what is done easily by force of wealth.  Of course when the money is there, and is given along with one’s self (as I know you intended), it is providential, but I verily believe it intensifies difficulties and temptations.  Poverty is almost as beneficial a sieve of motives and stimulus to energy as persecution itself.”

“There are so many things one can’t do.”

“Perhaps the fit time is not come for their being done.  Or you want more training for doing them.  Remember that to bring one’s good desires to good effect, there is a how to be taken into account.  I know of a place where the mere knowledge that there are unlimited means to bestow seems to produce ingratitude and captiousness for whatever is done.  On the other hand, I have seen a far smaller gift, that has cost an effort, most warmly and touchingly received.  Again, the power of at once acting leads to over-haste, want of consideration, domineering, expectation of adulation, impatience of counsel or criticism.”

“I suppose one does not know till one has tried,” said Armine, “but I should mind nothing from Mr. or Miss Parsons.”

“I did not allude to any special case, I only wanted to show you that riches do not by any means make doing good a simpler affair, but rather render it more difficult not to do an equal amount of harm.”

“Of course,” said Armine, “as this misfortune has happened, it is plain that we must submit, and I hope I am bowing to the disappointment.”

“By endeavouring to do your best for God with what is left you?”

“I hope so, but with my health there seems nothing left for me but unmurmuring resignation.”

Mr. Ogilvie was amused at Armine’s notion of unmurmuring resignation, but he added only, “Which would be much assisted by a little exertion.”

“I did exert myself at home, but it is all aimless now.”

“I should have thought you still equally bound to learn and labour to do your duty in Him and for Him.  Will you think about what I have said?”

“Yes, Mr. Ogilvie, thank you.  I know you mean it kindly, and no one can be expected to enter into my feeling of the uselessness of wasting my time over classical studies when I know I shall never be able to be ordained.”