won my affection.

After this explanation I gave Sara as warm marks of my love as decency
would allow in the presence of her father and mother, and I could see
that all the girl thought of was love.

The fifth day I went up to her room, and finding her in bed all the fires
of passion flamed up in my breast, for since my first visit to their
house I had not been alone with her. I threw myself upon her, covering
her with kisses, and she shewed herself affectionate but reserved. In
vain I endeavoured to succeed; she opposed a gentle resistance to my
efforts, and though she caressed me, she would not let me attain my end.

"Why, divine Sara," said I, "do you oppose my loving ecstasy?"

"Dearest, I entreat of you not to ask for any more than I am willing to
give."

"Then you no longer love me?"

"Cruel man, I adore you!"

"Then why do you treat me to a refusal, after having once surrendered
unreservedly?"

"I have given myself to you, and we have both been happy, and I think
that should be enough for us."

"There must be some reason for this change. If you love me, dearest Sara,
this renunciation must be hard for you to bear."

"I confess it, but nevertheless I feel it is my duty. I have made up my
mind to subdue my passion from no weak motive, but from a sense of what I
owe to myself. I am under obligations to you, and if I were to repay the
debt I have contracted with my body I should be degraded in my own eyes.
When we enjoyed each other before only love was between us--there was no
question of debit and credit. My heart is now the thrall of what I owe
you, and to these debts it will not give what it gave so readily to
love."

"This is a strange philosophy, Sara; believe me it is fallacious, and the
enemy of your happiness as well as mine. These sophisms lead you astray
and wound me to the heart. Give me some credit for delicacy of feeling,
and believe me you owe me nothing."

"You must confess that if you had not loved me you would have done
nothing for my father."

"Certainly I will confess nothing of the kind; I would readily do as
much, and maybe more, out of regard for your worthy mother. It is quite
possible, indeed, that in doing this small service for your father I had
no thoughts of you at all."

"It might be so; but I do not believe it was so. Forgive me, dearest, but
I cannot make up my mind to pay my debts in the way you wish."

"It seems to me that if you are grateful to me your love ought