“I used to be, formerly. Children, you know, have little reflection, or rather their reflections run on ideal themes. There are moments now when I am not quite satisfied.”

“Why?”

“I am making no money—earning nothing.”

“You come to the point, Lina; you, too, then, wish to make money?”

“I do: I should like an occupation; and if I were a boy, it would not be so difficult to find one. I see such an easy, pleasant way of learning a business, and making my way in life.”

“Go on: let us hear what way.”

“I could be apprenticed to your trade—the cloth-trade: I could learn it of you, as we are distant relations. I would do the counting-house work, keep the books, and write the letters, while you went to market. I know you greatly desire to be rich, in order to pay your father’s debts; perhaps I could help you to get rich.”

“Help me? You should think of yourself.”

“I do think of myself; but must one for ever think only of one’s self?”

“Of whom else do I think? Of whom else dare I think? The poor ought to have no large sympathies; it is their duty to be narrow.”

“No, Robert——”

“Yes, Caroline. Poverty is necessarily selfish, contracted, grovelling, anxious. Now and then a poor man’s heart, when certain beams and dews visit