“I can estimate it,” she answered, gently, “by my need of you.”
“Not at all,” said Philip, gazing in her trustful face. “Any one whom you loved would adore you, could he be by your side. You need nothing. It is I who need you.”
“Why?” she asked, simply.
“Because,” he said, “I am capable of behaving very much like a fool. Hope, I am not worthy of you; why do you love me? why do you trust me?”
“I do not know how I learned to love you,” said Hope. “It is a blessing that was given to me. But I learned to trust you in your mother’s sick-room.”
“Ay,” said Philip, sadly, “there, at least, I did my full duty.”
“As few would have done it,” said Hope, firmly,—“very few. Such prolonged self-sacrifice must strengthen a man for life.”
“Not always,” said Philip, uneasily. “Too much of that sort of thing may hurt one, I fancy, as well as too little. He may come to imagine that the balance of virtue is in his favor, and that he may grant himself a little indulgence to make up for lost time. That sort of recoil is a little dangerous, as I sometimes feel, do you know?”
“And you show it,” said Hope, ardently, “by fresh sacrifices! How much trouble you have taken about Emilia! Some time, when you are willing, you shall tell me all about it. You always seemed to me a magician, but I did not think that even you could restore her to sense and wisdom so soon.”
Malbone was just then very busy putting the boat about; but when he had it on the other tack, he said, “How do you like her?”