hope he don't. You know what he is: he's smart, promising, and already sufficiently well off. But somehow he isn't for a man what my Esther is for a woman."
"That he isn't!" said I; "and honestly, Captain Blunt, I don't know who is"
"Unless it's yourself," said the Captain.
"Thank you. I know a great many ways in which Mr. Johnson is more worthy of her than I."
"And I know one in which you are more worthy of her than he,—that is, in being what we used to call a gentleman."
"Miss Esther made him sufficiently welcome in her quiet way, on Sunday," I rejoined.
"Oh, she respects him," said Blunt. "As she's situated, she might marry him on that. You see, she's weary of hearing little girls drum on the piano. With her ear for music," added the Captain, "I wonder she has borne it so long."
"She is certainly meant for better things," said I.
"Well," answered the Captain, who has an honest habit of deprecating your agreement, when it occurs to him that he has obtained it for sentiments which fall somewhat short of the stoical,—"well," said he, with a very dry expression of mouth, "she's born to do her duty. We are all of us born for that."
"Sometimes our duty is rather dreary," said I.
