It was an oratorio.  She watched the long wave roll on to the sinking into its fellow; and onward again for the swell and the weariful lapse; and up at last bursting to the sheet of white.  The far-heard roar and the near commingled, giving Mr. Barmby a semblance to the powers of ocean.

At the first direct note, the burden of which necessitated a pause, she petitioned him to be her friend, to think of himself as her friend.

But a vessel laden with merchandize, that has crossed wild seas for this particular port, is hardly to be debarred from discharging its goods on the quay by simple intimations of their not being wanted.  We are precipitated both by the aim and the tedium of the lengthened voyage to insist that they be seen.  We believe perforce in their temptingness; and should allurement fail, we fall back to the belief in our eloquence.  An eloquence to expose the qualities they possess, is the testification in the promise of their excellence.  She is to be induced by feeling to see it.  We are asking a young lady for the precious gift of her hand.  We respect her; and because of our continued respect, despite an obstruction, we have come to think we have a claim upon her gratitude; could she but be led to understand how different we are from some other man!—­from one hitherto favoured among them, unworthy of this prize, however personally exalted and meritorious.

The wave of wide extension rolled and sank and rose, heaving lifeless variations of the sickly streaks on its dull green back.

Dudley Sowerby’s defection was hinted at and accounted for, by the worldly test of worldly considerations.

What were they?—­Nesta glanced.

An indistinct comparison was modestly presented, of one unmoved by worldly considerations.

But what were they?  She was wakened by a lamp, and her darkness was all inflammable to it.

’Oh!  Mr. Barmby, you have done me the honour to speak before; you know my answer,’ she said.

’You were then subject to an influence.  A false, I may say wicked, sentiment upholding celibacy.’

’My poor Louise?  She never thought of influencing me.  She has her views, I mine.  Our friendship does not depend on a “treaty of reciprocity.”  We are one at heart, each free to judge and act, as it should be in friendship.  I heard from her this morning.  Her brother will be able to resume his military duties next month.  Then she will return to me.’

‘We propose!’ rejoined Mr. Barmby.

Beholding the involuntary mercurial rogue-dimple he had started from a twitch at the corner, of her lips, the good gentleman pursued:  ’Can we dare write our designs for the month to come?  Ah!—­I will say—­Nesta! give me the hope I beg to have.  See the seriousness.  You are at liberty.  That other has withdrawn his pretensions.  We will not blame him.  He is in expectation of exalted rank.  Where there is any shadow . . .