a soft-headed fool as to let that girl, who you admit does not like you or care a rap for you personally, stand between you and such prospects, then I’m mistaken in you, and the sooner I find it out the better.  Come, now, I’ll be good-natured and liberal in the matter, for young men will be a little addle-pated and romantic before they cut their wisdom teeth.  Through that English woman who works for your aunt occasionally you can see to it that these people don’t suffer, but beyond that you must drop them once for all.  What is more, your father and mother take the same view that I do, and your filial duty to them requires what I ask.  While we naturally refuse to be mixed up with such people, we are seeking chiefly to promote your welfare; for the worst thing that can happen to a young man starting in life is to have a helpless lot of people hanging on him.  So, come, give me your promise—­the promise of an Atwood—­and it will be all right.”

Eoger was not a self-sacrificing saint by any means.  Moreover, he had inherited the Atwood characteristics sufficiently to feel all the worldly force of his uncle’s reasoning, and to be tempted tremendously by his offers.  They promised to realize his wildest dreams, and to make the path to fame and wealth a broad, easy track instead of a long, steep, thorny path, as he had expected.  He was virtually on the mountain-top, and had been shown “all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them.”

But against this brilliant background he saw the thin, pale face of Mrs. Jocelyn, as she looked up to him with loving trust and gratitude, and the motherly kiss that she had imprinted on his cheek was a seal to her absolute faith.  He felt the pressure of Belle’s arm about his neck, and remembered his promise to give her a brother’s regard and protection, and justly he feared that if deserted now the impulsive, tempted girl would soon meet shipwreck.  She would lose faith in God and man.  But that which touched him most nearly were his words to Mildred—­words spoken even when she showed him most plainly that her heart was not his, and probably never could be—­“I am your friend; never doubt it.”  How false he would seem to them; how false and selfish to his friend, the great-hearted clergyman, who was like Christ himself in his devoted labors; how false and base he would ever feel himself to be in his own soul!

For a time there was a terrible conflict in his breast as he paced the floor in long strides, with hands clenched and brow heavily contracted.  His uncle watched him curiously and with displeased surprise, for that he could hesitate at all seemed to the worldly man an evidence of fatal weakness.

Roger fought it out like a genuine Atwood, and was nearer akin to his uncle than the old merchant would ever suspect.  His heart craved the kingdoms of the world unspeakably, but he now realized that he must barter for them his honor, his manhood, and love.  Thus far he had a right to love Mildred, and it was not her fault she could not return it.  But, poor and shamed as she was, he knew that she would despise him if he yielded now, even though he rose to be the foremost man of the nation.  Not with any chivalric, uncalculating impulse did he reach his conclusion, but by the slow, deliberate reasoning of a cool-headed, sturdy race that would hold to a course with life-long tenacity, having once chosen it.