h, and a great part of its value was taken out of that prize. Was
she mercenary or worldly-minded in her choice? It would be hard to say
so, for she never questioned with herself whether or not she should
follow Clarence into obscurity and poverty, if things should turn out
so. She would never abandon him, however bad his case might be; but her
heart sunk very low when she thought of her future with him, without the
"career" which would have made everything sweet.

Mr. Copperhead, too, had very serious thoughts on this subject, and sat
up long drinking brandy-and-water, and knitting his brows, as he turned
the subject over and over in his mind, recognizing with disgust (in
which nevertheless there mingled a certain respect) that Clarence would
not yield, he was as obstinate as himself, or more so. He had gone to
the inn, where he was alone, without any of his usual comforts. It was
perhaps the first time in his prosperous life that he had ever been
really crossed. Joe had never attempted to do it, nor any of the first
family. They had married, as they had done everything else, according to
his dictation; and now here was his useless son, his exotic plant, his
Dresden china, not only asserting a will of his own, but meaning to have
it; and showing a resolution, a determination equal to his own. His
mother had never shown anything of this. She had yielded, as every one
else had yielded (Mr. Copperhead reflected), to whatever he ordered.
Where had the boy got this unsuspected strength? A kind of smile broke
unawares over the rich man's face, as he asked himself this question, a
smile which he chased away with a frown, but which nevertheless had been
there for a moment roused by a subtle suggestion of self-flattery.
Where, but from himself, had his gentleman-son (as the millionnaire
proudly held him to be) got that strength of obstinacy? He chased the
thought and the smile away with a frown, and went to bed gloomily
nursing his wrath; but yet this suggestion which he himself had made was
more flattering to himself than words can say. As for Clarence, the only
other person deeply concerned, after he had asked for Mr. May, and
expressed his regret to learn how ill he was, the young man smoked a
cigar on the doorsteps, and then went peaceably, without either care or
anxiety, to bed, where he slept very soundly till eight o'clock next
morning, which was the hour at which he was called, though he did not
always get up.

When Mr