"Nonsense, nonsense," replied Mr. Rowe; "you are mistaken. You can."
"I tell you I cannot."
"Yet that is just what you insist others can do. You insist that they can see through your spectacles."
"I say nonsense, nonsense to you! I understand your trick, but it does not apply in this case. I say that in the difference of opinion between you and your son which you have spoken of you are the better judge. You are the older of the two by forty years. You know the world; you have experienced its trials, its temptations, its disappointments; you have seen its follies, its delusions. Therefore you have a perfect right to say to your son, 'My boy, you are wrong! you must conquer your idea--your fancy. Be patient, and time will show you its folly; and one day you will thank me for opposing your wishes.' Why," exclaimed Mr. Weston, raising his voice slightly in his excitement, "do you not love your son?"
"That it is not to be doubted."
"And what you do in this matter, is it not for his good?"
"Ah, my friend, my friend! I may think so, in my obstinacy, but it is I who am wrong. Let us speak plainly. You know it is of your Gerald we are speaking----"
"Of course I know it."
"What more can you desire than his happiness? The girl he loves, and has pledged himself to, is poor, it is true; but she is a lady, and is in every way worthy of him. Why embitter your life and his by standing in his way?"
"One moment, Mr. Rowe," interrupted Mr. Weston; "how do you know all this? Have you seen the girl?"