“Odalite!” he exclaimed, amazed and overwhelmed by her passion.
“Le! Oh, Le! I have told you more than I meant ever to have told any one! The truth burst from my heart unawares. Forget what I have said, Le! Oh, forget it!”
“Never, never, never can I forget these words, dear Odalite! Those words that have revealed to me a glimpse of a soul braver, nobler, more self-immolating than I ever believed could live in the form of mortal man, not to say in that of a fragile girl,” said the young man, fervently, earnestly.
“Oh, dear Le, such overpraise humbles me! Let it pass! But, oh, my dear, as you unwittingly surprised my confidence, so respect it. Whisper it to no human being—no, not even to yourself in your moments of deepest solitude!” she pleaded.
“I will not, my best beloved, my only love! I will not; but I will hide it in my heart as my secret, sacred treasure, to comfort me, to strengthen me, to elevate me in all places and circumstances of my life—in the long, long sea voyages, in the midnight watches on the deck, it shall be my hope, my solace and my consolation. Always with me, until I return to claim the greater, higher, better treasure that it promises!” exclaimed Le, with enthusiasm.
“Oh, Le, you have twice spoken of the sea! But you will never go to sea again! You have resigned from the navy,” she said, anxiously looking in his face for a confirmation of her words.
“No, dear,” he answered, very gently. “I have not resigned. I wish now that I had done so, but it is too late.”
“Oh, Le, why did you not, when you meant to do so?”
“My darling, when I inherited Greenbushes, I fully intended to leave the navy, marry my betrothed, and settle down on our farm. But, when I came home and learned that she was to be married to some one else, I did the very opposite thing to resigning. I wrote to the department and asked for sailing orders, because I could not bear to stay in the neighborhood, or even in the country, after such a bitter disappointment.”