ago talked
over between us; the rest is all his own."

Here Mr. Ogilvie took the paper, and Ethel saw his countenance show
evident tokens of surprise and feeling.

"Yes," he said presently, "May goes deep--deeper than most men--though I
doubt whether they will applaud this."

"I should like it better if they did not," said Ethel. "It is rather to
be felt than shouted at."

"And I don't know how the world would go on if it were felt. Few men
would do much without the hope of fame," said Norman Ogilvie.

"Is it the question what they would do?" said Ethel.

"So you call fame a low motive? I see where your brother's philosophy
comes from."

"I do not call it a low motive--" Her pause was expressive.

"Nor allow that the Non omnis moriar of Horace has in it something
divine?"

"For a heathen--yes."

"And pray, what would you have the moving spring?"

"Duty."

"Would not that end in 'Mine be a cot, beside the rill'?" said he, with
an intonation of absurd sentiment.

"Well, and suppose an enemy came, would duty prompt not the Hay with the
joke--or Winkelried on the spears?"

"Nay, why not--'It is my duty to take care of Lucy.'"

"Then Lucy ought to be broken on her own wheel."

"Not at all! It is Lucy's duty to keep her Colin from running into
danger."

"I hope there are not many Lucies who would think so."

"I agree with you. Most would rather have Colin killed than disgraced."

"To be sure!" then, perceiving a knowing twinkle, as if he thought she
had made an admission, she added, "but what is disgrace?"

"Some say it is misfortune," said Mr. Ogilvie.

"Is it not failure in duty?" said Ethel.

"Well!"

"Colin's first duty is to his king and country. If he fail in that, he
is disgraced, in his own eyes, before Heaven and men. If he does it,
there is a reward, which seems to me a better, more powerful motive
for Lucy to set before him than 'My dear, I hope you will distinguish
yourself,' when the fact is,

"'England has forty thousand men,
We trust, as good as he.'

"'Victory or Westminster Abbey!' is a tolerable war-cry," said Mr.
Ogilvie.

"Not so good as 'England expects every man to do his duty.' That serves
for those who cannot look to Westminster Abbey."

"Ah! you are an English woman!"

"Only by halves. I had rather have been the Master of Glenbracken at
Flodden than King James, or"--for she grew rather ashamed of having
been impelled to utte