Are you in love ?' Poor Rowland coloured to the temples, but did not answer.
'You won't tell me?
There was a time, Rowland, when you and I knew one another's hearts as well as if they were two open books, in which we could read when we like, but I suppose London and fine people--' 'Stop, Owen, do not disgrace yourself or me by going on.

Why do you wish to probe me in a wounded place, where every stab is death ?' Owen looked at his brother, and saw the conflict that was going on in his mind in the working of his features.
'Rowland, I only want your confidence; by Jove you shall have mine, even though you are my successful rival; and I love you so well that I would give her up to you, if it cost me--let me see--a voyage to the North Pole.' 'Owen, this is no jesting matter.

I have been a fool, I am ashamed of myself, I am trying to conquer my feelings; leave me until I have succeeded, and then--' 'But, Rowland, if she loves you, I don't see why you should try to overcome your feelings.

It would not be quite the right match, certainly; but she would make a better parson's wife than a sailor's wife after all; and my father might consent in time, and--' 'Owen, is it kind of you to make a jest of me ?' asked Rowland, rising from his chair, and resuming his walk up and down his room.

'If you had ever really loved either of the many girls you have fancied you adored, you would understand me better; but I deserve it all for my presumption--my folly.' 'For that much, Rowland, perhaps I love her a trifle better than you do at this very moment; still I am not selfish enough to come between you, and would rather try absence and the northern latitudes; only just be honest.