Septimius Felton, or, the Elixir of Life by Nathaniel Hawthorne
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dissatisfied, foiled look in them, as if of his speculations he found no
end. Such was now the case, while Robert and the girl were running on with a gay talk about a serious subject, so that, gay as it was, it was interspersed with little thrills of fear on the girl's part, of excitement on Robert's. Their talk was of public trouble. "My grandfather says," said Rose Garfield, "that we shall never be able to stand against old England, because the men are a weaker race than he remembers in his day,--weaker than his father, who came from England,--and the women slighter still; so that we are dwindling away, grandfather thinks; only a little sprightlier, he says sometimes, looking at me." "Lighter, to be sure," said Robert Hagburn; "there is the lightness of the Englishwomen compressed into little space. I have seen them and know. And as to the men, Rose, if they have lost one spark of courage and strength that their English forefathers brought from the old land,--lost any one good quality without having made it up by as good or better,--then, for my part, I don't want the breed to exist any longer. And this war, that they say is coming on, will be a good opportunity to test the matter. Septimius! Don't you think so?" "Think what?" asked Septimius, gravely, lifting up his head. "Think! why, that your countrymen are worthy to live," said Robert Hagburn, impatiently. "For there is a question on that point." "It is hardly worth answering or considering," said Septimius, looking at him thoughtfully. "We live so little while, that (always setting aside the effect on a future existence) it is little matter whether we live or no." |
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