Charles admitted that perhaps he might have done so.
“You have taken Passion and Pride for your counsellors, dear Charles: the one has blinded your eyes that you should not see the straight path; the other would bind your feet that you should not pursue it. And miserable counsellors have you found them both; they have inflicted on your heart more pain than the loss of both title and estate.”
“What would you have me do?” said Charles, more quietly; for he felt the truth of the last observation.
“First, I would have you endeavour to bring yourself to be content to be of little importance. Until your mind is in this state of submission, you will be like one with a wound which is being perpetually rubbed.
“Secondly, I would have you seek your earthly enjoyment rather in beholding that of others, than in any pleasure that comes direct to yourself. Thus, in one way, Fontonore will be yours still.
“Thirdly, I would have you prayerfully on the watch against the slightest feeling of jealousy towards Ernest. Never let your only brother think for one moment that you feel that he stands in your way.”
“Oh, Mr. Ewart!” cried Charles, starting to his feet, “how could you imagine such a thing?”
“It rests with you alone to prevent his thinking it, and you have made a bad beginning to-day.”
“I will go to Ernest at once,” said the boy, “and help to show him over the place. He shall never say—he shall never think that I am envious of his prosperity.”