e love than from a comparatively indifferent
person."

"A slight! but there can be no such thing as a slight between those who
love perfectly--as we do. Are we not all in all to each other? Is not
our happiness indivisible?"

"It is my pride and joy to believe so, my sweet Emily. I know in my own
heart that the needle is not more true to the magnet than my thoughts
and feelings are to you. It shall be the chief care of my life to save
you from all uneasiness; but, Emily, I expect the same devotion I give:
unkindness from you, of all the world, I could not and would not
endure."

"Oh, Philip, Philip!" she said, half tenderly, half reproachfully, "why
should you say this? I do not doubt _you_, dear Philip, for I judge your
love by my own."

He looked into the truthful and affectionate eyes which were raised so
trustingly to his face, and replied, in a voice tremulous with emotion,
"Forgive me, Emily. I trust you entirely; but I had started an idea, the
barest contemplation of which was insupportable--maddening, because of
the very excess of my affection. In short, Emily, I know--that is, I
suspect--your father looked for a higher match for you than I am. Report
says that his prejudices are strong in favor of birth, and that he is
very proud of his ancient blood; and the idea did cross me for a moment,
that when you were with him he might influence you to despise me."

"My father _is_ proud; but, dear Philip, is nobody proud but he? And
notwithstanding his prejudices, as you call them, I can assure you, you
are not more honorable yourself in every act and thought than he is. He
has consented to our marriage, and therefore you need not fear him, even
if you cannot trust me alone."

"Oh, Emily, pardon me! And so you think me proud. Well, perhaps I am;
and it is better that you should know it, as you will bear with it, I
know, for my sake, my best, my truest Emily; and I shall repay your
goodness with the most fervent gratitude. Yes, I feel with you that no
cloud can ever come between us two."

Emily Sherwood was the eldest daughter of Colonel Sherwood, a cadet of
one of the proudest families in England; and which, though it had never
been adorned with a title, looked down with something like contempt on
the abundant growth of mushroom nobility which had sprung up around it,
long after it had already obtained the dignity which, in the opinion of
the Sherwoods, generations alone could bestow. Colonel Sherwood
inherite