“No, I do not blame myself for that. I only blame myself for not loving him enough, as I told you once before.”
“Yes, my dear; and the oftener you tell me so, the more I am convinced of your affection. It is one of the strongest symptoms of love, that we are unconscious of its extent. We fancy that we can never do too much for the beloved object.”
“That is exactly what I feel about Mr. Hervey.”
“That we can never love him enough.”
“Ah! that is precisely what I feel for Mr. Hervey.”
“And what you ought—I mean, what it is natural you should feel; and what he will himself, I hope, indeed I dare say, some time or other wish, and be glad that you should feel.”
“Some time or other! Does not he wish it now?”
“I—he—my dear, what a question is that? And how shall I answer it? We must judge of what he feels by what he expresses: when he expresses love for you, it will then be the time to show yours for him.”
“He has always expressed love for me, I think,” said Virginia—“always, till lately,” continued she; “but lately he has been away so much, and when he comes home, he does not look so well pleased; so that I was afraid he was angry with me, and that he thought me ungrateful.”
“Oh, my love, do not torment yourself with these vain fears! And yet I know that you cannot help it.”