“Shall I, or my rival, have the pleasure of your society to-morrow?” said Hilary, laughingly, to her lover, one evening. His visits were generally made after the hours of work in the dockyard were over. “Are you jealous of the wandering lady at Woolwich, Hilary?” was his answer. “Perhaps I might be, if I did not know that, as you deserted her predecessor, and transferred your attentions to her, so you would be equally ready to forsake your present favorite on detecting some defect in her constitution or her powers.” “A sad specimen of inconstancy,” said he, playfully. “No, not inconstancy,” replied she, “because the feeling remains the same; it is devotion to your profession which actuates you, and the ship, though well-beloved for a time, is cared for only as an embodiment; a visible symbol of this feeling. It is your profession which is really my rival.” “You are wrong, love; to which did I devote myself first?” “Ah! you mean that I am the rival,” said she, looking up, with a smile. “My profession is my duty, Hilary,” said he, gravely; “would you rival that? I hope not.” “Never!” was her energetic answer. “And yet, am I only your plaything?” it was spoken with hesitation. “That depends on yourself, Hilary!” She looked as if to ask how; but pondered in silence. “You may be, I trust you will be, my good angel! my better self! to inspirit, cheer, guide me in the path of honor; not the weight to draw me back, the bait to allure me to forget the grand object of life.” “That is not professional honor!” said she, doubtingly. “No, it is to do my duty in the state of life to which it has pleased God to call me,” was his quiet answer. “And, Hilary, professional honor is only dear to me, I trust, in so far as it may reflect light on a profession dearer still――that of a Christian warrior.” “Ah! I felt that was the foundation of your zeal.” “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.”