ny een. Should he let himself
be influenced by a dream--a mere fancy?

It would pass away, this folly. It must pass away. Would it be wise to
let circumstances guide him to take the course which seemed for the time
to be the easiest, the most direct to insure a measure of success?
Should he be wise in putting out of his thoughts the hopes and plans
which had been occupying him lately? No, he was fit for higher work
than cutting stones or building or planning houses. He could not go
back to such work now. Even his mother's desire must be put aside when
the work of his life was in question.

And yet!--and yet his mother's simple wisdom had never failed him since
the day they had gone forth together from what had been the happiest of
homes. She might be right, and he might be putting away the substance
to please himself by chasing a shadow. So he said to himself, as she
waited quietly with folded hands. He was anxious, uncertain,
bewildered, as unlike himself, or as unlike his own idea of himself, as
could well be. He was amazed and angry at his foolishness, and eager
only to get away from his mother's eyes.

"I promised to go to the manse a while to-night, mother," said he with
his hand upon the door.

"Yes, and quite right. The minister has clear vision and good sense,
and will give you none but good advice. But bide a wee. You have told
your mother nothing yet. Sit down and let me hear what you are thinking
to do. Since we have begun, it will be wise to go through to the end.
So that you truly ken your ain mind, I shall be content."

John was far from knowing his own mind. That was what ailed him. And
he had been so sure of himself before he came home. And so sure also
that he could persuade his mother to see as he did about that which he
desired to bring to pass! He did not feel that he could do justice to
himself of his plans and prospects at this moment.

He sat down, however, and went over the matter from the beginning. He
said something also about his hopes and plans for the future. He by no
means meant to give up his work at present. He meant to work in the
summer as he had hitherto done, and go on with his reading in the
winter. If he and Mr Swinton were to come to an agreement, it would be
all the easier for him. He had no fear but that he could get on with
both work and reading till he had got through with the college at least.

"But, O John! it will be a lang look to the end! I