"But you are welcome Joseph; and we love to have you with us."
"I know it—still, this should make me only more anxious to relieve your generosity of its burden."
"This is not all," said aunt Hannah, mildly, "you keep the principal reason back for leaving us, tell me what it is?"
"Perhaps I ought—though the reason I have given should be enough. Yes, aunt, there is another motive—do not laugh at my folly, that I cannot dwarf myself and become a helpless nonentity, without a struggle to grasp the blessings so much desired by other men. It has been a happy time that I have known at the Old Homestead, still what has it secured to me but unrest, and such disquiet as will follow me through life, unless I work out a destiny for myself like other men?"
He broke off, hesitating for words, and a faint blush stole over his face even in the darkness.
Aunt Hannah felt his embarrassment, and had compassion on him.
"I know all about it," she said, quietly, "you love Mary Fuller. She is a good girl. Why not?"
"Why not?" exclaimed the youth, passionately, "I am penniless? Nay, it is more than probable that I may never be really strong again."
"That is God's work, but no fault of yours!"
"But how can I support a wife? I who cannot earn bread for myself?"