Mr. Corbet was a young man of very good family, from a distant county.  If his character had not been so grave and deliberate, his years would only have entitled him to be called a boy, for he was but eighteen at the time when he came to read with Mr. Ness.  But many men of five-and-twenty have not reflected so deeply as this young Mr. Corbet already had.  He had considered and almost matured his plan for life; had ascertained what objects he desired most to accomplish in the dim future, which is to many at his age only a shapeless mist; and had resolved on certain steady courses of action by which such objects were most likely to be secured.  A younger son, his family connections and family interest pre-arranged a legal career for him; and it was in accordance with his own tastes and talents.  All, however, which his father hoped for him was, that he might be able to make an income sufficient for a gentleman to live on.  Old Mr. Corbet was hardly to be called ambitious, or, if he were, his ambition was limited to views for the eldest son.  But Ralph intended to be a distinguished lawyer, not so much for the vision of the woolsack, which I suppose dances before the imagination of every young lawyer, as for the grand intellectual exercise, and consequent power over mankind, that distinguished lawyers may always possess if they choose.  A seat in Parliament, statesmanship, and all the great scope for a powerful and active mind that lay on each side of such a career—­these were the objects which Ralph Corbet set before himself.  To take high honours at college was the first step to be accomplished; and in order to achieve this Ralph had, not persuaded—­persuasion was a weak instrument which he despised—­but gravely reasoned his father into consenting to pay the large sum which Mr. Ness expected with a pupil.  The good-natured old squire was rather pressed for ready money, but sooner than listen to an argument instead of taking his nap after dinner he would have yielded anything.  But this did not satisfy Ralph; his father’s reason must be convinced of the desirability of the step, as well as his weak will give way.  The squire listened, looked wise, sighed; spoke of Edward’s extravagance and the girls’ expenses, grew sleepy, and said, “Very true,” “That is but reasonable, certainly,” glanced at the door, and wondered when his son would have ended his talking and go into the drawing-room; and at length found himself writing the desired letter to Mr. Ness, consenting to everything, terms and all.  Mr. Ness never had a more satisfactory pupil; one whom he could treat more as an intellectual equal.