She looked at me tenderly, and said in a sweet, grave voice:—
“My father has a claim on me that I must not overlook. He is all alone; he has lost my mother, and my brother is away, and is going into a different sphere of life from us. He has lost his land that he prized and valued, and that has been ours for a long, long time; and now that he is sad and lonely, and feels that he is growing old, how could I leave him? He that has always been so good and kind to me all my life!” Here the sweet eyes filled with tears. I had not taken away my hand, and she had not removed hers; this negative of action gave me hope and courage.
“Norah! answer me one thing. Is there any other man between your heart and me?”
“Oh no! no!” Her speech was impulsive; she stopped as suddenly as she began. A great weight seemed lifted from my heart; and yet there came a qualm of pity for my friend. Poor Dick! poor Dick!
Again we were silent for a minute. I was gathering courage for another question.
“Norah!”—I stopped; she looked at me.
“Norah! if your father had other objects in life, which would leave you free, what would be your answer to me?”
“Oh, do not ask me! Do not ask me!” Her tone was imploring; but there are times when manhood must assert itself, even though the heart be torn with pity for woman’s weakness. I went on:—
“I must, Norah! I must! I am in torture till you tell me. Be pitiful to me! Be merciful to me! Tell me, do you love me? You know I love you, Norah. Oh God! how I love you! The world has but one being in it for me; and you are that one! With every fibre of my being—with all my heart and soul, I love you! Won’t you tell me, then, if you love me?”
A flush as rosy as dawn came over her face, and timidly she asked me, “Must I answer? Must I?”