as given to me. But I learned to trust you in your mother's
sick-room."

"Ay," said Philip, sadly, "there, at least, I did my full duty."

"As few would have done it," said Hope, firmly,--"very few. Such
prolonged self-sacrifice must strengthen a man for life."

"Not always," said Philip, uneasily. "Too much of that sort of thing may
hurt one, I fancy, as well as too little. He may come to imagine that
the balance of virtue is in his favor, and that he may grant himself
a little indulgence to make up for lost time. That sort of recoil is a
little dangerous, as I sometimes feel, do you know?"

"And you show it," said Hope, ardently, "by fresh sacrifices! How much
trouble you have taken about Emilia! Some time, when you are willing,
you shall tell me all about it. You always seemed to me a magician, but
I did not think that even you could restore her to sense and wisdom so
soon."

Malbone was just then very busy putting the boat about; but when he had
it on the other tack, he said, "How do you like her?"

"Philip," said Hope, her eyes filling with tears, "I wonder if you have
the slightest conception how my heart is fixed on that child. She has
always been a sort of dream to me, and the difficulty of getting any
letters from her has only added to the excitement. Now that she is here,
my whole heart yearns toward her. Yet, when I look into her eyes, a sort
of blank hopelessness comes over me. They seem like the eyes of some
untamable creature whose language I shall never learn. Philip, you are
older and wiser than I, and have shown already that you understand her.
Tell me what I can do to make her love me?"

"Tell me how any one could help it?" said Malbone, looking fondly on the
sweet, pleading face before him.

"I am beginning to fear that it can be helped," she said. Her thoughts
were still with Emilia.

"Perhaps it can," said Phil, "if you sit so far away from people. Here
we are alone on the bay. Come and sit by me, Hope."

She had been sitting amidships, but she came aft at once, and nestled
by him as he sat holding the tiller. She put her face against his knee,
like a tired child, and shut her eyes; her hair was lifted by the summer
breeze; a scent of roses came from her; the mere contact of anything
so fresh and pure was a delight. He put his arm around her, and all the
first ardor of passion came back to him again; he remembered how he had
longed to win this Diana, and how thoroughly she was won.

"It