"And so, Brian, I find you as obstinate as ever!" said Mr. Singleton, in a complaining tone.
The person whom he addressed smiled a little. He did not look very obstinate, this pleasant-faced young man, with clear gray eyes, that regarded the elder man kindly and humorously. They were sitting in the latter's private room, which opened into the drawing-room—Mr. Singleton leaning back in his deep, luxurious chair; Brian Earle seated opposite him, but nearer the open window, through which his glance wandered now and then, attracted by the soft summer scene outside, flooded with the sunshine of late afternoon.
"I am sorry if it seems to you only a question of obstinacy," he said, in a voice as pleasant as his face; "for that is the last thing I should wish to be guilty of. Mere obstinacy—that is, attachment to one's will simply because it is one's will—always seemed to me a very puerile thing. My impulse is to do what another wishes rather than what I wish myself—all things being equal."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Singleton, with the sarcastic inflection of voice which was very common with him. "Then I am to suppose that, where I am concerned, your impulse is exactly contrary to what it is in the case of others; for certainly you have never consented to do anything that I wish."
"My dear uncle, is that quite just, because I can not do one thing that you wish?"
"That one thing includes everything. You know it as well as I do. In refusing that, you refuse all that I can or ever shall ask of you."
"I am sorry to hear it," said the other. "But do you not think that it is a great thing to ask of a man to resign his own plan and mode of life, to do violence to his inclination, and to give up not only his ambition but his independence as well?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Singleton, "it is a great deal; but I offer a great deal also. You should not forget that."
"I do not forget it. You offer an immense price, but it is the price of my freedom and my self-respect."
"In that case we will say no more about it," returned Mr. Singleton, hotly. "If you consider that you would lose your freedom and your self-respect by complying with my wishes—wishes which, I am sure, are very moderate in their demands,—I shall certainly not urge you to do so. We will consider the subject finally closed."