"How strange you talk, Henry! What mystery is this?" said Emily, to whom
prudential motives were unknown.
"If it be a mystery, pray do not press me to unravel it, for I cannot."
His resolution was fast giving way before the strength of his love. He
was sorely tempted to throw himself at her feet and pour forth the
acknowledgment of his affection, which, he felt, would be kindly
received. It was a difficult position for a man of sensitive feelings to
be placed in, and he felt it keenly. But the duty he owed to his
benefactor seemed imperative.
Emily, on her part, was sadly bewildered by the strangeness of Henry's
words; but she had no suspicion of the truth. If she had, perhaps, with
a woman's ingenuity, she had devised some plan to extricate him from the
dilemma. She was conscious of the strong interest she felt in the man
before her; but the fact that she loved him was yet unrecognized. How
should it be? She was unskilled in the subtleties even of her own
heart. She know not the meaning of love yet. She was conscious of a
grateful sensation in her heart; but she had yet to learn that this
sensation was that called love in the great world.
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