There was a tremor of voice, an eager look, that made her fear that the crushed hope was reviving, and she hastened to say, ‘The best thing would be that you should think no more about me.’
‘Impossible!’ he vehemently cried; then, catching himself up, and speaking in the same deferential tone as at first, ‘I owe you far too much to cease to think of you.’
‘It is a great pity,’ said Theodora; ‘I never deserved such feelings, and they make me wish more and more that all could be undone.’
‘No! no!’ exclaimed Lord St. Erme, his eyes lighting and his cheek glowing, while his fair young features wore a look that was all poet and knight. ‘Would I see what is past undone? It was the turning-point of my life—the call to arms. Hitherto, life had been to me a dream in an enchanted garden, with the same secret weariness and dissatisfaction! I dread the thought of the time and means I lavished away, fancying because it was not vice it was not dissipation. It was then that I became unworthy of you. It was you who taught me where lies modern chivalry, and made my folly and conceit cease to despise the practical; showed me—may I quote German to you once more?—that “Das Leben ist keine Lustfahrt sondern theils eine kampfes, theils eine Pilger-weise.” I took up my staff, at first, I own, in hopes of winning you—’
‘You did not persevere merely for that reason?’
‘No; when my eyes were once opened to the festering sin and misery around, when I saw the evil nourished at my own door by my neglect, and perceived that those dependent on me were doomed to degradation and oppression that I might gratify my craving for art,—then, indeed, I was appalled! Those paintings and statues seemed to cry out to me that human souls had been sacrificed to them! The toil and devotion of a life would be too little to atone! Oh! that it were more able and effective. Means and judgment go but a little way!’
‘Your heart and happiness are in the work,’ said Theodora, seeing how he was carried away by his feelings.
‘Yes. There is a sense like the labourer’s at his daily task, and though there is the mountain of things undone, there is the hope that all are not wilfully neglected. It is for this that I longed to thank you. When I was in danger, I knew what it would have been to wait for death before I thought of—of the way of peace. I blessed you in my heart then—I thank you now.’
‘Thank Him who has brought good out of evil, was all Theodora could say.
He bowed his head gravely, and continued: ‘Now, thank you again for having listened. It has been a great satisfaction to me to acknowledge my obligations. Do not suppose I came to London intending to distress you with my pertinacity, or with any idea of having earned your favour. I was obliged to come; and when once near you, I could not bear to separate without, at least, entreating to know whether the former obstacle exists.’