"Love! she was made to love. So gentle, affectionate, and confiding. It would break my heart to lose her."
"You must not anticipate evil. And, after all, Cousin Wildegrave, is death such a dreadful evil to a fair young creature, too good and amiable to struggle with the ills of life? If I were in her place, I think I could exclaim, 'that it was a good and blessed thing to die!'"
"You are right," whispered the sweet low voice of Clarissa Wildegrave. "Death is our best friend. I see, Mr. Hurdlestone, that you and I are related—that we shall love each other, for we think alike."
This would have been a strange speech, could it have been taken in any other sense than the one in which it was meant; and Anthony, as he took the dove, the emblem of purity, from the fair hand of Clary, thought that a beautiful harmony existed between the bird and its mistress.
"I am sure we shall love each other, Miss Wildegrave. Will you accept me as a second brother?"
"I don't want two brothers, Mr. Hurdlestone. I love Frederic so well that I never mean him to have a rival. No; you shall remain my cousin. Cousins often love as well as sisters and brothers."
"And sometimes a great deal better," said Frederic, laughing. "But since you have made up your mind to love Anthony, sit down and give us another cup of tea."
"There is some one below-stairs, Mr. Anthony, who loves you at any rate," continued Clary, after handing the gentlemen their replenished cups. "One who is quite impatient to see you, who is never tired of talking about you, and calls you her dear boy, and says that she never loved any of her own sons better than you."
"Ruth! is she here? Let me see her directly," said Anthony, rising from the table.
"Sit down, Mr. Hurdlestone. I will ring the bell for her. She can speak to you here."