Now that the old owner is gone, and I am here, there is nothing to break its silence--nothing, unless it be the whispering of servants, or the whistling of happy birds, or the noise of fountains at play; it is changeless, except as day by day old flowers fade and fall, and new ones bud and bloom, and the sunlight gives place to the shadow of a passing cloud.
The life, Esther, was all too quiet for me.

It made me restless by keeping always present a feeling that I, who have so much to do, was dropping into idle habits, and tying myself with silken chains, and after a while--and not a long while either--would end with nothing done." She looked off over the river.
"Why did you ask ?" he said.
"Good my master--" "No, no, Esther--not that.

Call me friend--brother, if you will; I am not your master, and will not be.

Call me brother." He could not see the flush of pleasure which reddened her face, and the glow of the eyes that went out lost in the void above the river.
"I cannot understand," she said, "the nature which prefers the life you are going to--a life of--" "Of violence, and it may be of blood," he said, completing the sentence.
"Yes," she added, "the nature which could prefer that life to such as might be in the beautiful villa." "Esther, you mistake.

There is no preference.