of art and leisure whose duty it is to adorn life, to give pleasure, and to be happy that they may make others so. Sullied with his own disbeliefs, he thought of her innocent faith as something sweet and pure. He made her the symbol of all that is in man the substance of hope and the object of aspiration, almost consciously uplifting her so that he might gratify his instinct to look up.
And yet, when he walked with her, he said nothing of such thoughts. He was content, for the present, that she should take an interest in his progress at college, and accept his devoted attentions as a pleasant matter of course. He had his future to plan anew, and he did not seem to be able to think at once of any mode of life that would be sufficiently ideal for her to share it. He examined his classmates, walking home with one or another of them at luncheon hour; and he found that a few were, like Conroy, looking forward to succeeding their fathers in some business; that many were to be lawyers, more teachers, and some ministers; but that the majority did not know what they were to be. They were to decide after they had taken their degrees.
Law and the church were equally out of the question for him; and the schoolhouse was even less inviting. He knew nothing of business; and though he consulted the "want columns" of the newspapers, they offered no suggestions. He felt that he might have studied medicine perhaps, or science, if he had begun in time; but it was too late now; he could not turn back a year and start afresh. What he wished
