“Not now! That is all gone and past. Come and begin afresh.”
“No, no, I am too disagreeable.”
“May not I judge for myself?” he said, drawing nearer, and his voice falling into tremulous tenderness.
“Headstrong—overbearing.”
“Try,” and his smile overbore her.
“Oh no, no, nobody can bear me! This is more than you—you ought to do—than any one should,” she faltered, not knowing what she said.
“Than any one to whom you were not most dear!” was the answer, and he was now standing over her, with the dew upon his eyelashes.
“Oh, that can’t be. Bessie said you always took up whatever other people hated, and I know it is only that—”
“Don’t let Bessie’s sayings come between us now, Rachel. This goes too deep,” and he had almost taken her hand, when with a start she drew it back, saying, “But you know what they say!”
“Have they been stupid enough to tell you?” he exclaimed. “Confute them then, Rachel—dolts that can’t believe in self-devotion! Laugh at their beards. This is the way to put an end to it!”