"And you must study, if you would comprehend her," said Mrs.
Denison. "Of one thing let me again assure you, my young friend, if
you expect to get a wife worth having, you have got to show yourself
in earnest. Other men, not half so worthy as you may be, have eyes
quite as easily attracted by feminine loveliness, and they will
press forward and rob you of the prize unless you put in a claim. A
woman desires to be loved. Love is what her heart feeds upon, and
the man who appears to love her best, even if in all things he is
not her ideal of manhood, will be most apt to win her for his bride.
You can win Miss Loring if you will."

"It may be so," replied the young man, almost gloomily. "But, for
all you say, I must confess myself at fault. I look for a kind of
spontaneity in love. It seems to me, that hearts, created to become
one, should instinctively respond to each other. For this reason,
the idea of wooing, and contending, and all that, is painfully
repugnant."

"It may be," said Mrs. (sic) Dunham, "that your pride is as much at
fault in the case, as your manhood. You cannot bend to solicit
love."

"I cannot--I will not!" The gesture that accompanied this was as
passionate as the surroundings would admit.

"It was pride that banished Lucifer from Heaven," said Mrs. Denison,
"and I am afraid it will keep you out of the heaven of a true
marriage here. Beware, my young friend! you are treading on
dangerous ground. And there is, moreover, a consideration beyond