“It shall ever be my humble prayer, it shall be my most earnest endeavor, Hilary, not to disappoint your trusting love; and Heaven helping me, I hope to repay it in kindness, in affection, in guarding you from evil all your life long.” He spoke very gravely; he was much moved by her warmth. “Words are too poor to paint my gratitude to you for the honor you do me. And so they are to describe my implicit trust in your truth, your constancy, your prudence, and your affection. That I have to ask you to wait, that I am forced to leave you to the anxiety and trouble which I fear our separation may cause you, gives me great pain and grief for your sake; I would gladly spare you every shadow of care, I would gladly devote my life to you from this time. I grieve, but I trust you entirely. Will you believe as fully in my constancy as I do in yours, sweetest Hilary?” “Yes.” That single word satisfied him completely. When Nest came back from the garden, and the clergyman and his daughter from Primrose Bank, they interrupted a very happy conversation; one full of all the sweetness which confidence and affection, hope and gratitude, can inspire. It may be easily believed that after this explanation Hilary recovered both strength and spirits with a rapidity which surprised and delighted her sisters and friends: it may be readily imagined, that young ladies of Sybil’s and Gwyneth’s ages entertained their own theories, and formed their own opinions, when they found Captain Hepburn once more at the Vicarage; opinions and guesses which proved to have been surprisingly near the truth, when we consider their age and education. Mr. Huyton’s acquaintance had existed so long, and his friendship had been so diffused in the family, that they had never thought of him as a suitor to their sister; but, from the first, they had settled between themselves, that Captain Hepburn must fall in love with her. There was every thing to recommend such an arrangement in their eyes. He was grave and quiet, the nearest approach they could hope for to a mysterious and suspicious character; while, on the contrary, Charles was so lively and talkative, that they could imagine neither concealment nor reserve in his case. Then, too, their favorite hero was comparatively poor, and had a profession which would be attended by possible danger as well as renown, would certainly occasion long absences, and might give rise to romantic incidents, doubts, distresses, and heroic difficulties. All this was a charming contrast with Charles Huyton’s fortune and station in life; who besides, as they thought, not caring for Hilary, could only, had he wished to marry her, have offered her a matter-of-fact, readymade, and every-day sort of home; it would have been an engagement, presenting no difficulties except that of getting her wedding-clothes properly made, and offering no romance, except their first meeting, now nearly forgotten.