“In the matter that moved thee to that sorrowful sigh,” returned Evaline, in a low but earnest tone, and, at the same time, looking anxiously in his face.
Hildebrand changed colour. “No! no!” he said:—“that is past help. But did I sigh? Trust me, ’twas unknowingly.”
“In good sooth, it makes me sad that we can lend thee no help,” observed Evaline.
“I pitched my every thought on a shadow,” said Hildebrand, in a low voice. “Henceforth, the world, with its fair train of accidents, will be no more than a desert in my regard, and life but a dream. I am lost in it!”
“Alas!” sighed Evaline, deeply moved.
“Thou art too pitiful,” pursued Hildebrand. “Yet are those sweet tears, which my dejection hath brought to thine eyes, most soothing balsam to me, and more inspiring than new hope. By my troth, they make my heart swell again!”
“That do I not credit,” faltered Evaline.
“Wilt thou credit that thou art my heart’s hope and keeper?” asked Hildebrand, taking up her hand, and pressing it in his. “Nay, turn not away, sweet mistress! Remind thee, thou holdest in thy hands a human life—thy lips are to pass judgment on a soul! But wherefore do I discourse thus? It does thee wrong, sweet Evaline! I will”——
“Oh, hold! hold!” said Evaline, in broken accents.
“Dost thou—canst thou love me, then?” cried Hildebrand.