In these days, it is impossible for a young man of Roland's antecedents and present position to preserve a perfect ideal. If rightly guided, and established on a solid footing, it might perhaps be useful for him to see his ideal attacked, and even distorted.
With all the eloquence at his command, Eric stated the difficulty that beset the enlightened mind of the present day, in having no authoritative voice in the place of that of the Church, to say at every point of life's journey, "Follow thou me." We moderns must recognize what is pure and lofty in noble natures, though cramped by the many limitations incident to our age and individual constitution.
Bella's pencil worked rapidly while he was speaking, and she often nodded, her head assentingly. When he ended she looked full at him, and said,—
"You are the best teacher I ever met with;" then, with beaming eyes and glowing cheeks, she turned again to her work.
"That depends upon the pupil," answered Eric, politely acknowledging the compliment.
"I want you, now," continued Bella, still blushing deeply, "I want you to lay your hand on Roland's head. Please do; it will give precisely the effect I desire. Please do as I say."
He consented, protesting at the same time that the idea did not please him, for Roland should learn to carry his head free.
Bella shook her head with vexation, and continued her work, no longer, however, on the figure of Eric, but solely on that of Roland.
"Now I have it!" she suddenly exclaimed; "that is it! You resemble Murillo's St. Anthony."
"That is just what I noticed," cried Roland. "Manna scolded me for it at the musical festival."