ed
an' deed, John, I doubt it never can be."
"There," replied John, "I see plain enough that they'll gain you over
at last. That will be the end of it: but if you choose to break the vows
and promises that passed between us, you may do so."
"Oh! Lamh Laudher," said Ellen, affected at the imputation contained in
his last observation; "don't you treat me with such suspicion. I suffer
enough for your sake, as it is. For nearly two years, a day has hardly
passed that my family hasn't wrung the burnin' tears from my eyes on
your account. Haven't I refused matches that any young woman in my
station of life ought to be I proud to accept?"
"You did, Ellen, you did; but still I know how hard it is for you to
hould out against the persecution you suffer at home. No, no, Ellen
dear, I never doubted you for one minute. All I wondher at is, that such
a girl as you ever could think of one so humble as I am, compared to
what you'd have a right to expect an' could get."
"Well, but if I'm willin' to prefer you, John?" said Ellen, with a
smile.
"One thing I know, Ellen," he replied, "an' that is, that I'm far from
bein' worthy of you; an' I ought, if I had a high enough spirit, to try
to turn you against me, if it was only that you might marry a man that
'ud have it in his power to make you happier than ever I'll be able to
do; any way, than ever it's likely I'll be able to do."
"I don't think, John, that ever money or the wealth of the world made a
man an' wife love one another yet, if they didn't do it before; but it
has often put their hearts against one another."
"I agree wid you in that, Ellen; but you don't know how my heart sinks
when I think of your an' my own poverty. My poor father, since the
strange disappearance of little Alice, never was able to raise his head;
and indeed my mother was worse. If the child had died, an' that we knew
she slept with ourselves, it would be a comfort. But not to know what
became of her--whether she was drowned or kidnapped--that was what
crushed their hearts. I must say that since I grew up, we're improvin';
an' I hope, God willin', now that my father laves the management of the
farm to myself, we'll still improve more an' more. I hope it for their
sakes, but--more, if possible, for yours. I don't know what I wouldn't
do to make you happy, Ellen. If my life could do it, I think I could lay
it down to show the love I bear you. I could take to the highway and rob
for your sake, if I
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