For love dies in possession--ambition has no fruition, and so lives forever." "That ambition is not mine, my father," exclaimed Harold, earnestly; "I have not thy love of power, glorious in thee, even in its extremes.

I have not thy----" "Seventy years!" interrupted the old man, concluding the sentence.

"At seventy all men who have been great will speak as I do; yet all will have known love.

Thou not ambitious, Harold?
Thou knowest not thyself, nor knowest thou yet what ambition is.

That which I see far before me as thy natural prize, I dare not, or I will not say.