you had allowed your fancy to become entangled below the circle
in which it is your privilege to move, and I am thankful that my
other children have been more considerate. In a quiet, unobtrusive
way we have taken pains to learn all about the Jocelyns. They are
comparative strangers in the city. Mr. Jocelyn is merely a junior
partner in a large iron firm, and from all your father says I fear
he has lived too elegantly for his means. That matter will soon
be tested, however, for his firm is in trouble and will probably
have to suspend. With your health, and in the face of the fierce
competition in this city, are you able to marry and support a
penniless girl? If, on the contrary, you propose to support a wife
on the property that now belongs to your father and myself, our
wishes should have some weight. I tell you frankly that our means,
though large, are not sufficient to make you all independent and
maintain the style to which you have been accustomed. With your
frail health and need of exemption from care and toil, you must
marry wealth. Your father is well satisfied that whoever allies
himself to this Jocelyn family may soon have them all on his hands
to support. We decline the risk of burdening ourselves with these
unknown, uncongenial people. Is there anything unreasonable in that?
Because you are fascinated by a pretty face, of which there are
thousands in this city, must we be forced into intimate associations
with people that are wholly distasteful to us? This would be a
poor return for having shielded you so carefully through years of
ill health and feebleness."

The young man's head drooped lower and lower as his mother spoke,
and his whole air was one of utter despondency. She waited for his
reply, but for a few moments he did not speak. Suddenly he looked
up, with a reckless, characteristic laugh, and said: