“I can afford to wait as long as the Greeks waited before Troy,” said Denzil; “and I will be as constant as they were. If I cannot be her lover I can be her friend, and her protector.”
“Protector! Nay, surely she needs no protector out-of-doors, when she has Fareham and me within!”
“Beauty has always need of defenders.”
“Not such beauty as Angela’s. In the first place, her charms are of no dazzling order; and in the second, she has a coldness of temper and an old-fashioned wisdom which would safeguard her amidst the rabble rout of Comus.”
“There I believe you are right, Lady Fareham. Temptation could not touch her. Sin, even the subtlest, could not so disguise itself that her purity would not take alarm. Yes; she is like Milton’s lady. The tempter could not touch the freedom of her mind. Sinful love would wither at a look from those pure eyes.”
He turned away suddenly and walked to the window.
“Denzil! Why, what is the matter? You are weeping!”
“Forgive me!” he said, recovering himself. “Indeed, I am not ashamed of a tributary tear to virtue and beauty like your sister’s.”
“Dear friend, I shall not be happy till I call you brother.”
She gave him both her hands, and he bent down to kiss them.