And, as you say, I am a useful domestic animal. If I can be useful to
you, I am proud and thankful. I think more of you than I could easily
say: it is very good of you to give me some small return."

"It is because you have a heart, Robert. They may say what they please
of your head, but you have a great big heart."

Now was ever the superior male intellect thus disparaged? She must have
got this notion from Jane; but I can't quarrel with her now.

"Men are great clumsy things, as you said, dear: we have not your tact,
nor your delicate roundabout methods. You are right, I do make blunders;
I feel my deficiencies when I am with you. But if my head, such as it
is, or my heart, or my hand, can ever serve you, they will be ready."

"Suppose I were to leave you, and go out of your life?"

"You could not go out of my life, though you might go far away. I should
be sorry, but I have no right to hold you. But if you ever wanted me, I
should always be here."

"Suppose I did something wrong and foolish?"

"I don't want to suppose that, but if I must--it would not be for me to
judge you, as you told me once. You might do something that did not
accurately represent your mind and character: since I know them, the
action would be merely a mistake, a transient incongruity. I don't
change easily: I have known you from your cradle. And if it was ever
possible for me to fail you, it is not possible after to-night."

"You are very fond of Mr. Hartman, Robert. What if I quarreled with him?
Would you take my part against him?"

"I would take your part against the world, Clarice. But he is not of the
world. A sad and lonely man, burdened with an inverted conscience and
quixotic fancies that turn the waters into blood, who has come for once
out of his hermitage to catch a glimpse of the light that never was on
sea or land, and then to see it turn into darkness for him. I fear he is
sadder and lonelier now than when I brought him from the woods: but I
would stake my soul on his honor, as I would on yours. You cannot force
me into such a dilemma."

A heavenly glow was on her face now, as she looked long at the stars,
and then at me. "Why are you eloquent only when you speak of him,
brother?"

"You say I have a heart, Clarice: it is eloquent when I think of you.
Shall a stranger be more sacred to me than my sister?--and I don't mean
Jane. You would be sacred to a better man than I, dear, if he knew you
as I do: you may be so already