"Do not flatter yourself with a vain hope. I feel that I shall never be able to love you; and it is in kindness that I tell you so at once."
"Ah, adorable, angelic being! One so kind, so considerate, so good, is too pure, too near akin to heaven, for man to possess. I only ask to be your friend."
"As such, you shall ever be welcome."
"Thanks! thanks! May I but prove worthy of your friendship!"
Thus terminated his first attempt to win Ellen. His fall from the lover to a friend was the first step in a plot already matured. As a friend, he could ever have access to the heiress, and be received more familiarly than in any other capacity, save as an acknowledged lover. This familiarity would give him the opportunity of ingratiating himself into her affections, of which, finally, he felt certain.
He became a constant and frequent visitor at the mansion of the Waltons, and was ever received with cordiality. He let no opportunity pass unimproved to carry out his design. Goodness, benevolence, charity, were counterfeited most adroitly, until even Ellen began to think she had done him injustice by her suspicions. This is a favorable moment for a lover. Prove that you have been dealt with unjustly, and a woman's heart is opened by sympathy to let you in. It was well for Ellen that her heart was already occupied, or this might possibly have been her fate. As it was, she became, insensibly and unintentionally, kind to Durant. He did not fail to notice the change, and his heart exulted in the prospect of complete success.
When he thought the proper time had arrived, he prepared the way, and again declared himself a lover, with more eloquence than before. Again his suit was gently declined; but this time he persevered until his importunities became unbearable, and with them, all Ellen's old prejudices returned, strengthened ten-fold. If he could and would force himself for weeks and months upon an unwilling victim of his importunities, and attempt by such means to force her to accept his hand, he was depraved enough for any other wickedness. So she plainly told him she could not and would not submit longer to his unreasonable conduct; that he must consider himself as finally, fully and unrecallably dismissed.
"And give up all hope—the hope that has sustained and given me life so long? Oh, think, Ellen, think of my misery, of the untold wretchedness into which you plunge me, and let your heart, your kind, generous heart, relent!"
"Mr. Durant, I have told you often and often that it was impossible for me to love you, and that it was kindness to tell you so. If you have disregarded my oft repeated declaration, the truth of which you must long ere this have been convinced, the fault is yours, not mine."
"I know you have so spoken often, but still I have dared to hope. I loved too fervently for the passion ever to die before you denied me hope. Think of all these things, and then recall your words."