“Miss Vivian, are you so unwilling to receive my acknowledgments? Then must my gratitude be silent, but not the less deep.”
Again she essayed to speak, and the words came vehemently, impetuously.
“I had no agency in procuring this situation for you, Mr. Sutherland. How could you think for a moment that I, or any one else, could presume to ‘patronize’ you in such a manner? How could you suppose, for an instant, that I, or any one else that knew you, could deem this position a fit and proper one for you? No! could I have dared to interfere, it would have been to prevent your coming here.”
There was a tone of honest, earnest indignation in her voice, looks, and manner, that utterly astounded Mark Sutherland. Could it be that she thought him unworthy of the position? No; he dismissed that surmise at once, and answered, quietly,
“I confess you surprise me, Rosalie! Is not the vocation of a teacher really honourable, if conventionally humble?”
“It is greater, higher, more difficult, more responsible, than any other, except that of the preacher of the Gospel!” answered the girl, earnestly.
“What is the matter, then—am I unfit for it?”
“Yes, you are totally unfit for it.”
“Why?” smiled Mark; “has my education been neglected?”
“I know that you are a distinguished classical and mathematical scholar, Mr. Sutherland; and for any other branch of knowledge quite fitted to take a professor’s chair; but to be a teacher of youth requires other and rarer qualifications, which you have not.”