“Go to parties, operas, theatres, or into some saloon; anywhere, if I find good company.”
“You used to try to deceive yourself with regard to study,” I said, with a degree of earnestness that made him laugh heartily. “Do not deceive yourself now, and run into company that will lead you to ruin, just because your uncle is rich enough to give you the opportunity. Deception cannot prosper.”
“Don’t everybody deceive—everybody but you and Lovell?”
“That many practise it, I allow, and that some for a time succeed, is very possible; but the end is not yet.”
“There is no use in denying self-interest is the motive,” he answered; “and if some noble deeds and benevolent actions are performed, the mainspring is the same. I humor my uncle, for I need his money; you study enough to kill a common man, making this a stepping-stone to something else. What’s the difference?”
There was a difference, notwithstanding his fluent speech. Back as far as I could look there was still one purpose— a strong and noble manhood, a life of usefulness and honor; and in my estimation, a good education would greatly contribute to bring this about. This was why I studied, why I was resolved to study—not merely distinction, worldly honor, or aggrandizement, but to possess a truly excellent character, worthy the regard of others and the respect of myself.
XIV.
At length a year in college had passed; one more layer was unwrapped from round the kernel of college lore, and as Juniors we were trying with renewed powers honorably to rival each other.
Not alone to us change had come, but to others. Miss Clavers had opened a seminary in the little village bearing her father’s name, and Jennie was an assistant. How full of love and encouragement were her letters. How strange it all seemed: no longer a little girl that nestled in my arms, and looked up to me as one able to do so much, but a tall, stately young woman, going in and out before her pupils with the conscious grace of one who feels that she is able to do all that she has undertaken.
It was a bright autumn day when Stevens invited a party of some half a dozen students to walk with him to a town not far distant. For the last six months I had been on friendly terms with him, so I did not think it strange when he invited me; neither did I refuse to go. It was a perfect day: the rich, fervid hues of autumn were spread over miles of forest-trees and shrubbery; a thin veil of mist hung over every winding stream, while the brilliant sunshine illuminated the many varying shades of wood, water, and cloud, blending all in perfect harmony.