she was promoting her son's welfare, but she had not Mrs. Jocelyn's
gentle ways of manifesting solicitude.

After a moment of oppressive silence, she began:

"Perhaps I can best present this issue in its true light by again
asking, Are you a man of honor?"

"Is it dishonorable," answered her son irritably, "to love a pure,
good girl?"

"No," said his mother, in the same quiet, measured voice; "but it
may be very great folly and a useless waste. It is dishonorable,
however, to inspire false hopes in a girl's heart, no matter who
she is. It is weak and dishonorable to hover around a pretty face
like a poor moth that singes its wings."

In sudden, passionate appeal, he exclaimed, "If I can win Miss
Jocelyn, why cannot I marry her? She is as good as she is beautiful.
If you knew her as I do you would be proud to call her your daughter.
They live very prettily, even elegantly--"

By a simple, deprecatory gesture Mrs. Arnold made her son feel that
it was useless to add another word.

"Vinton," she said, "a little reason in these matters is better
than an indefinite amount of sentimental nonsense. You are now
old enough to be swayed by reason, and not to fume and fret after
the impossible like a child. Neither your father nor I have acted
hastily in this matter. It was a great trial to discover that