"All, I suppose, which it is good for them to have crushed. There are feelings which last on, in spite of all struggles to quench them—I suppose, because they ought to last; because, while they torture, they still ennoble. Death will quench them: or if not, satisfy them: or if not, set them at rest somehow."
"Death?" answered she, in a startled tone.
"Yes. Our friend, Major Campbell's friend, Death. We have been seeing a good deal of him together lately, and have come to the conclusion that he is the most useful, pleasant, and instructive of all friends."
"Oh, Mr. Headley, do not speak so! Are you in earnest?"
"So much in earnest, that I have resolved to go out as an army chaplain, to see in the war somewhat more of my new friend."
"Impossible! Mr. Headley; it will kill you!—All that horrible fever and cholera!"
"And what possible harm can it do me, if it does kill me, Miss St.
Just!"
"Mr. Headley, this is madness! I—we cannot allow you to throw away your life thus—so young, and—and such prospects before you! And there is nothing that my brother would not do for you, were it only for your heroism at Aberalva. There is not one of the family who does not love and respect you, and long to see all the world appreciating you as we do; and your poor mother—"
"I have told my mother all, Miss St. Just. And she has said 'Go; it is your only hope.' She has other sons to comfort her. Let us say no more of it. Had I thought that you would have disapproved of it, I would never have mentioned the thing."
"Disapprove of—your going to die? You shall not! And for me, too: for I guess all—all is my fault!"