“Are you striving for mere victory’s sake, Norman?” continued his father.
“I thought not,” murmured Norman.
“Successful or not, you will have done your utmost for us. You would not lose one jot of affection or esteem, and Tom shall not suffer. Is it worth this agony?”
“No, it is foolish,” said Norman, with trembling voice, almost as if he could have burst into tears. He was quite unnerved by the anxiety and toil with which he had overtasked himself, beyond his father’s knowledge.
“Oh, papa!” pleaded Ethel, who could not bear to see him pained.
“It is foolish,” continued Dr. May, who felt it was the moment for bracing severity. “It is rendering you unmanly. It is wrong.”
Again Ethel made an exclamation of entreaty.
“It is wrong, I know,” repeated Norman; “but you don’t know what it is to get into the spirit of the thing.”
“Do you think I do not?” said the doctor; “I can tell exactly what you feel now. If I had not been an idle dog, I should have gone through it all many more times.”
“What shall I do?” asked Norman, in a worn-out voice.