“The only sure foundation, love; the feeling, or rather the principle, which will carry one unflinchingly through danger, difficulty, trouble of every kind. Life to every one is full of deep mystic meaning; the life of a sailor above all. The troubled waves, the wearying calm, the changeful winds, the uncertain currents, the dangerous rocks and shoals, the tedious length of voyage, the joyous arrival at home, all realities to us, are figures appropriated to mystic subjects. Then we have the lonely watch, the strict discipline, the hardships and self-denial, the temperance, the necessary obedience to superiors; ought not each one of these to remind the Christian of the duties of his calling? each in itself a religious duty exemplified!”
“Like the chivalrous devoirs of the knightly warriors of old,” said Hilary; “an actual realization in deed of the intangible theories of the Christian faith.”
“Yes! the whole of a sailor’s life is an allegory; an acted picture of things unseen. But that is not what I meant to speak of when alluding to a possible rivalry between duty and you. Hilary, while health and strength are granted to me, they must
be at my country’s service when required; and no domestic tie, not even that of a wife, dear as it may be, may interfere. Not from the old heathen pride in patriotism which made one’s country’s glory the idol of life, but for the higher, holier reason, the belief that my path has been appointed by my Heavenly Father; and that to follow it with all my might, is but doing my duty in its simplest form. Do you not think me right? Life itself, were I called on to lay it down on service, would be gladly devoted; not to win the praise of men here, but to testify to the truth and sincerity of my profession!”
Hilary’s eyes filled; and as she sat silently thinking on his words, almost unconsciously her fingers pressed the ring which he had placed there as a sign of their betrothal. He watched her countenance anxiously.
“You are not satisfied,” continued he; “your look asks where you come in my estimation of life. Is not that it?”
“Am I selfish? I did think that.”
“First of this world’s objects; reward of labor and peril here in hours of rest; companion for ever in that life where duty will involve no sacrifice, and love will bring no pain or tears.”
She could not answer, except by the quivering lip and drooping eyelid, which spoke of strong, but suppressed, emotion.
“I had not loved thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more!” continued he, taking her hands in his, and speaking in a voice of ineffable tenderness.