She soon, however, regained her presence of
mind, and, gently disengaging herself, gave vent to her feelings in a
violent flood of tears.

Not at the time recollecting the conversation with my father, much
less suspecting that Emily had been made acquainted with it, I cannot
but confess that this reception surprised me. My caresses were
repulsed, as coming from one totally disqualified to take such
freedom. She even addressed me as Mr Mildmay, instead of "Frank."

"What may all this mean, my dearest Emily," said I, "after so long an
absence? What can I have done to make so great an alteration in your
sentiments? Is this the reward of affection and constancy? Have I so
long worn this dear emblem of your affection next my heart, in battle
and in tempest, to be spurned from you like a cur on my return?"

I felt that I had a clear right to boast of constancy; nor were the
flirtations of Halifax and Quebec at all incompatible with such a
declaration. The fair sex will start at this proposition; but it is
nevertheless true. Emily was to me what the Dutchman's best anchor
was to him--he kept it at home, for fear of losing it. He used other
anchors in different ports, that answered the purpose tolerably well;
but this best bower he always intended to ride by in the Nieu deep,
when he had escaped all the dangers and quicksands of foreign shores:
such was Emily to me. I thought of her when in the very jaws of the
shark; I thought of her when I mounted the rigging in the hurricane; I
thought of her when bored and tormented to madness by the old passing
captains; all, all I might gain in renown was for her. Why, then,
traitor like, did I deny her? For no other reason that I can devise
than that endless love of plot and deceit which had "grown with my
growth."

Madame de Stael has pronounced love to be an episode in a man's life;
and so far it is true. There are as many episodes in life as there
are in novels and romances; but in neither case do they destroy the
general plot of the history, although they may, for the time, distract
or divert our attention. Here, then, is the distinction between
passion and love. I felt a passion for Eugenia, love for Emily. And
why? Because although it was through my own persuasions and entreaties
that her scruples had been overcome; although it was through her
affection for me which would not allow her to refuse me any demand,
even to the sacrifice of herself, that Eugenia had fallen, still, in