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 Diep, 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 the eyes of society, she
had fallen; and I did not offer up a pure and holy love to that which
was not accounted pure. In this I gave way, ungratefully, to the
heartless casuistry of the world. But Emily, enshrined in modesty, with
every talent,