‘Trust, oh! indeed I do, and am thankful. But I am thinking of you! Poor dear Maria might be a drag, where I should not! And I cannot leave her to any of the others. She could not be long without me.’
‘Well, faithless one, we may have to wait the longer; though I feel that you alone would be happiest fighting up the hill with me.’
‘Oh, thank you for knowing that so well.’
‘But as we both have these ties, and as, besides, I should be a shabby adventurer to address you but on equal terms, we must be content to wait till—as with God’s blessing I trust to do—I have made a home smooth enough for Maria as well as for you! Will that do, Phœbe?’
‘Somehow it seems too much,’ murmured Phœbe; ‘and yet I knew it of you.’
‘And as you both have means of your own, it may bring the time nearer,’ he said. ‘There, you see I can calculate on your fortune, though I still wish it were out of the way.’
‘If it were not for Maria, I should.’
‘And now with this hope and promise, I feel as if, even if it were seven years, they would be like so many days,’ said Humfrey. ‘You will not be of those, my Phœbe, who suffer and are worn by a long engagement?’
‘One cannot tell without a trial,’ said Phœbe; ‘but indeed I do not see why security and rest, or even hope deferred, should hurt me. Surely, having a right to think about you cannot do so?’
And her look out of those honest clear gray eyes was one of the most perfect reliance and gladness.