I have never wanted to marry a woman before, though I've met scores of
nice girls. I never felt for one of them the sympathy, the affinity I
know for you. You are not in love with me; I don't expect it for the
moment, but you are interested; so far as you've gone, you like and
approve. You've shown that in your letters, and are honest enough to
admit it now. Then why not give me a chance? Is there anything
derogatory to a sane woman's dignity in meeting, at his own request, and
on perfectly free, unconditional terms, a man who loves her, and wishes
to make her his wife? You know there is not.--I ask for no promises;
nothing but the chance to meet you on an ordinary friendly footing. If
it eases the way, I promise to say no word of love for, shall we say
three months? I'd prefer _weeks_--but it's your verdict.

"I want you, Katrine! I need you! I want a tangible, flesh and blood
love, instead of its shadowy substitute. I want to take you in my arms,
and hold you close till the red burns in your cheeks. I want to look
down into those deep eyes, and to see them look back into mine. I want
to stroke that curly hair, and to kiss those lips. Most of all I want
your lips. I hunger to love, and I hunger to be loved. The thought of
your coming would be like life; your refusal, blackness like death.

"Is there a soul at home in England who can say as much? And if not,
are you justified, Katrine, in sacrificing me to your pride? You won't
do it. You can't do it! Come to me, Katrine!

"J.C.D. Blair."

"Cumly, _November 20, 19--_.

"Dear Captain Blair,

"I have received your letter. What can I say? Honestly, I have tried
to weigh your arguments,--not calmly,--that is impossible, but
unselfishly, thoughtfully, from every point of view, and indeed, and
indeed, I can't alter my decision!

"I hate the thought of giving you pain; I hate it so much that I will
confess that it gives me pain also. I want to give in, and say yes; I
want to leave behind the pain and the jar of the last few years, and
sail out into the sun,--to see Dorothea, and yes! to see _you_ too; to
continue our friendship face to face. I could waive the shyness, waive
the pride; what I cannot do is to waive the _risk_! You are a man; you
see, man-like, only the plain, obvious facts; you don't realise, as a
woman does, the hundred and one difficulties and risks. You say that
you love me, and you _do_ love the imaginary Katrine whom you ha