It is hard enough--it is hard
enough--"
"What is hard, beloved?"
She raised her head abruptly, and turned
upon him a gaze full of hope and doubt, and
sweet perplexity.
"Ah, no, you do not love me," she whispered,
sadly.
"Why should I come to seek you, after these
many years, dearest, if I did not wish to make
you my wife before God and men? Why
should I--"
"Ah, yes, I know," she interrupted him with
a fresh fit of weeping, "you are too good and
honest to wish to throw me away, now when
you have seen how my soul has hungered for
the sight of you these many years, how even
now I cling to you with a despairing clutch.
But you cannot disguise yourself, Ralph, and I
saw from the first moment that you loved me
no more."
"Do not be such an unreasonable child," he
remonstrated, feebly. "I do not love you with
the wild, irrational passion of former years;
but I have the tenderest regard for you, and
my heart warms at the sight of your sweet
face, and I shall do all in my power to make
you as happy as any man can make you who--"
"Who does not love me," she finished.
A sudden shudder seemed to shake her whole frame,
and she drew herself more tightly up to him.
"Ah, no," she continued, after a while,
sinking back upon her seat. "It is a hopeless thing
to compel a reluctant heart. I will accept no
sacrifice from you. You owe me nothing, for
you have acted toward me honestly and uprightly,
and I shall be a stronger, or--at least--
a better woman for what you gave me--and--
for what you could not give me, even though
you would.
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