“If you wish it.”
“I do wish it.”
“Then I will come.”
There was silence for a few moments, each of them being occupied with his own thoughts. The Rector was evidently thinking of that old romance which had stirred him to such an unwonted display of emotion; and Maurice saw for the first time in his selfish life that other men had sorrows as well as he, and that he was not the only person in the world who suffered from Selbstschmerz.
“But come, Maurice,” said the Rector, after a pause, “I was talking about curing you by marriage.”
“Love!”
“Well, marriage in your case, I hope, will be love,” observed Carriston, a trifle reproachfully. “I would be sorry indeed to see you make any woman your wife unless it was for true love’s sake.”
“Well, whom do you want me to love?”
“Ah, that is for you to decide. But, if I may make a suggestion, I should say, Eunice.”
“Eunice!”