not of common clay and predestined to be commonplace.  But she said, in all sincerity, “Mr. Atwood, I’m sure I wish you twice the success you crave in life, and I’ve no reason to think you overrate your power to achieve it; but you greatly overrate me.  It would be no condescension on my part to give you my friendship; and no doubt if you attain much of the success you covet you will be ready enough to forget my existence.  What induces you to think that a simple girl like me can help you?  It seems to me that you are vague and visionary, which perhaps is natural, since you say you are just awaking,” she concluded, with a little smiling sarcasm.

“You are unjust both to yourself and to me,” he replied firmly, “and I think I can prove it.  If I shall ever have any power in the world it will be in seeing clearly what is before me.  I have seldom been away from this country town, and yet as soon as I saw you with a mind free from prejudice I recognized your superiority.  I brought the belle of Forestville and placed her by your side, and I could think of nothing but brazen instruments until I left her loudness at her father’s door.  I would not go near her again if there were not another woman in the world.  I saw at a glance that she was earthenware beside you.”

Mildred now could not forbear laughing openly.  “If you lose your illusions so rapidly,” she said, “my turn will come soon, and I shall be china beside some fine specimen of majolica.”

“You may laugh at me, but you will one day find I am sincere, and not altogether a fool.”

“Oh, I’m ready to admit that, even now.  But you are altogether mistaken in thinking I can help you.  Indeed I scarcely see how I can help myself.  It is a very poor proof of your keen discernment to associate me with your kindling ambition.”

“Then why had you the power to kindle it?  Why do I think my best thoughts in your presence?  Why do I speak to you now as I never dreamed I could speak?  You are giving purpose and direction to my life, whether you wish it or not, whether you care or not.  You may always be indifferent to the fact, still it was your hand that wakened me.  I admit I’m rather dazed as yet.  You may think I’m talking to you with the frankness—­perhaps the rashness—­of a boy, since you are ‘immeasurably older,’ but the time is not very distant when I shall take my course with the strength and resolution of a man.”

“I should be sorry to be the very innocent cause of leading you into thorny paths.  I truly think you will find more happiness here in your quiet country life.”

His only answer was an impatient gesture.

“Perhaps,” she resumed, “if you knew more of the world you would fear it more.  I’m sure I fear it, and with good reason.”

“I do not fear the world at all,” he replied.  “I would fear to lose your esteem and respect far more, and, distant as you are from me, I shall yet win them both.”