"I hope you are happy, Caroline?" said Sir Henry, as he gently squeezed the hand that was so gently laid upon his arm.
"Happy! oh yes—I am happy. I don't believe you know in a great deal of very ecstatic happiness. I never did."
"But I hope you are rationally happy—not discontented—at any rate, not regretful? I hope you believe that I shall do my best, my very best, to make you happy?"
"Oh, yes; I quite believe that. We must each think of the other's comfort. After all, that I take it is the great thing in married life."
"I don't expect you to be passionately in love with me—not as yet, Caroline."
"No. Let neither of us expect that, Sir Henry. Passionate love, I take it, rarely lasts long, and is very troublesome while it does last. Mutual esteem is very much more valuable."
"But, Caroline, I would have you believe in my love."
"Oh, yes; I do believe in it. Why else should you wish to marry me? I think too well of myself to feel it strange that you should love me. But love with you, and with me also for the future, will be subordinate to other passions."
Sir Henry did not altogether like that reference to the past which was conveyed in the word future; but, however, he bore it without wincing.
"You know so thoroughly the history of the last three years," she continued, "that it would be impossible for me to deceive you if I could. But, if I know myself, under no circumstances would I have done so. I have loved once, and no good has come of it. It was contrary to my nature to do so—to love in that mad passionate self-sacrificing manner. But yet I did. I think I may say with certainty that I never shall be so foolish again."