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home. Wherever I went your face haunted me. I planned to go away, to travel, to break myself loose; but it was no use, I could not go. I dreaded to see you, but I dreaded more to go away. I hung about the places you might pass. That dress with the flounces! I could see the blue of it coming toward me through the branches. That night you were ill! All the colour went out of your cheeks. I would have given my life--my life! I have never loved before. I did not know what love meant, but you have taught me. You have waked me from sleep. I'm not good enough--a surly brute! Couldn't expect any girl to care; but for seven years--twice seven years--I'd serve, I'd wait. Oh, my beautiful, my beautiful--if you could see yourself! How can I stay here, and let you go? Marry me! Marry me! This week, to-morrow--what are conventions to us? I'll be good to you. All the love of my life is waiting--I've never squandered it away. It has been stored up in my heart for you." I held up my hand, imploring him to stop. "Oh, Mr Maplestone, don't! It's all a mistake. It must be! How can you care? You know so little of me; we have met so seldom. How can you possibly know that you would like me as a wife?" He gave a quick, excited laugh. "It's all true what those poet fellows write about love! I used to laugh and call it nonsense; but when it comes to one's own turn, it's the truest thing in the whole world! How do I know? I can't tell you, Evelyn; but I _do_ know. It's just the one certain fact in life. I want you! I'm going to have you!" He stretched out his arms as if to seize me then and there, and I shrank back, looking, I suppose, as I felt, frightened to death, for instantly his manner changed, his arms dropped to his side, and he cried in the gentlest, softest of tones:-- "Don't be frightened of me! Don't be frightened! Forgive me if I seem rough. Rough to _you_! Oh, my sweet, give me a chance to show what I could be! You have done enough caring for other people; now let me take care of you! Be my wife, _Evelyn_!" It was all too painful and miserable, and--yes, too beautiful to put into words. I cried, and said, No! no! I was sorry, but I didn't love him; I had never thought. There was no one else--oh, no; but it was hopeless all the same. I could never--never--Oh, indeed, I was not worth being miserable about. He must forget me. On Wednesday I was going away. He would find when
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