'No flattery, hate, or envy lodgeth there,
'There no suspicion walled in proved steel,
'Yet fearful of the arms herself doth wear,
'Pride is not there; no tyrant there we feel!'"[1]
"I will not cope with you in simile, or in poetry," said Walter, as his lip curved; "it is enough for me to think that life should be spent in action. I hasten to prove if my judgment be erroneous."
"Are you, then, about to leave us?" inquired Aram.
"Yes, within a few days."
"Indeed, I regret to hear it."
The answer sounded jarringly on the irritated nerves of the disappointed rival.
"You do me more honour than I desire," said he, "in interesting yourself, however lightly, in my schemes or fortune!"
"Young man," replied Aram, coldly, "I never see the impetuous and yearning spirit of youth without a certain, and it may be, a painful interest. How feeble is the chance, that its hopes will be fulfilled! Enough, if it lose not all its loftier aspirings, as well as its brighter expectations."
