. The
boy was somewhat spiritless and weary-looking; he could not be
pronounced to be ill or really weak now, yet there was something wanting
in him which ought to have been there, making him more atune to
spring-time.

His face was not much the worse for its battering on the rocks. He was
still a good-looking youth, as Mr. Barlow told him one day; to which
Inna responded, as the boy was silent, that she was glad, because nice
looks were nice. This made Oscar laugh at last, and remark that nice, as
used in the sense she used it, was only a girl's way of using it. Yet he
could be grumpy still, though there was certainly a change for the
better in him in that way.

As for Inna, she had been like a little shadow about him all through the
winter, sitting by him through the long, cold, snowy days in the
dining-room, he on a couch by the fire, she on a footstool, reading to
him, chatting, working out puzzles--she and he together--and heaping up
the fire till it blazed again. Once they had an earnest talk of that
which was always making Oscar's heart heavy and his brow gloomy, of the
time when he would have to take to the farming.

Thus Oscar was, in a way, prepared for what his uncle said to him after
their walk round the farm that fine spring day.

"Oscar, do you know why I've taken you round the farm to-day?"

The boy had thrown himself listlessly on a couch near the fire.

"Yes, I suppose to remind me of what I'm to be," returned he.

"Well, yes, you have guessed rightly; and, my boy, has it ever struck
you that you're not fitted for what you want to be?" asked Dr. Willett,
doctor-like, going to the point at once, and so saving suffering.

"Yes, I know I'm too big a coward for it; and I suppose other people
know it as well."

"No, not a coward, Oscar--events have proved that not to be correct. For
instance, no coward would have saved that child at the fire; yet they
told me you fainted as soon as 'twas done. The doctor at Bulverton
Hospital wrote me that he thought there was something peculiar in the
formation of your brain: what happened at Swallow's Cliff proves the
same thing, and confirms my opinion of you, formed years ago--that your
head would never do for climbing giddy heights, nor steer you through
dangers in safety to yourself or to others. So, my boy, your sailor
dream will have to be set aside."

"It was more than a dream, it was--it was----" the boy broke down and
sobbed, burying his face among the