Master Alfred, who was now a very forward youth of eighteen, fancied himself to be smitten with the charms of the little beauty of fifteen.  Whether he really was so or not it is impossible to say; but it is extremely probable that he was more alive to the fortune of the heiress than to the beauty of the girl.  Avarice is not exclusively the passion of the aged, nor is it a whit less powerful than the passion of love.  Thus young Alfred Burghe was as jealous of Ishmael’s approach to Claudia, as if he—­Alfred—­had loved the girl instead of coveting her wealth.  Early, very early, marriages were customary in that neighborhood; so that there was nothing very extravagant in the dream of that fast young gentleman, that in another year—­namely, when he should be nineteen and she sixteen—­he might marry the heiress, and revel in her riches.  But how was he to marry her if he could not court her?  And how was he to court her if he was never permitted to associate with her?  He was forbidden to approach her, while “that cur of a weaver boy” was freely admitted to her society!  He did not reflect that the “weaver boy” had earned his own position; had established a character for truth, honesty, fidelity; was pure in spirit, word, and deed, and so was fit company for the young.  But Alfred was quite incapable of appreciating all this; he thought the preference shown to Ishmael unjust, indecent, outrageous, and he resolved to be revenged upon his rival, by exposing, taunting, and humiliating him in the presence of Claudia, the very first time chance should throw them all three together.

Satan, who always assists his own, soon sent the opportunity.

It was near the first of August; there was to be an examination, exhibition, and distribution of prizes at the school.  And the parents and friends of the pupils were invited to attend.

Walter Middleton and Ishmael Worth were at the head of the school and would compete for the first prizes with equal chance of success.  The highest prize—­a gold watch—­was to be awarded to the best written Greek thesis.  Walter and Ishmael were both ordered to write for this prize, and for weeks previous to the examination all their leisure time was bestowed upon this work.  The day before the examination each completed his own composition.  And then, like good, confidential, unenvying friends as they were, they exchanged papers and gave each other a sight of their work.  When each had read and returned his rival’s thesis, Walter said with a sigh: 

“It will be just as I foreboded, Ishmael.  I said you would take the prize, and now I know it.”

Ishmael paused some time before he answered calmly: 

“No, Walter, I will not take it.”

“Not take it! nonsense! if you do not take it, it will be because the examiners do not know their business!  Why, Ishmael, there can be no question as to the relative merits of your composition and mine!  Mine will not bear an instant’s comparison with yours.”