At length Barclugh pleaded:
“Speak! Mollie, speak! My heart and my life go out to you with sincerity and love! Will you consent to be my bride, and make me the most favored man on earth?”
Mollie arose and went to the other end of the library table, and looking at her lover said:
“It is impossible that you could love me, Mr. Barclugh. I am a Quakeress.”
“That matters not, my dear Mollie. I have learned that God’s loving kindness resides within the hearts of your people. I was saved from an untimely death by the love and kindness of your dear father, and I know that you had no less to do with it than he. So I feel that I am the one to be unworthy of any affection that your heart possesses,” contended Barclugh.
“I am highly complimented, Mr. Barclugh, by your kindly and unexpected attentions to me, but I feel so unable to render any one happy that I could not answer you at once. I must have time for meditation and consultation with my parents.”
“There is no reason, dearest, why you ought not to have time. If you will only consent to consider my love, so that I shall have an opportunity to prove my worthiness, I shall be more than happy. Promise me this much, Mollie. I shall then have a chance to show you how much I love you?” pleaded Barclugh passionately.
Mollie sat down at the end of the table, buried her face in her arms and began to sob and weep pitifully, and Barclugh stood disconsolately at the other end of the table.
At length Barclugh went to the end of the table where Mollie sat, and taking her hand in his, he knelt at her side, and pleaded earnestly:
“Mollie, will you satisfy the longing of my heart by promising me that you will answer me in a month? Just give me a ray of hope, that I may live for your sake. Mollie, just promise me, just promise.”