It was not in human nature, at least not in a young man’s nature, to resist her beauty, her pleading; and he folded her to his heart, covered her face with kisses, and then said:
“Little Drusa! little Drusa! oh, my dear, dear child! what a misery for you that you should love me, wretch that I am!”
“But why, Alick? Why? It is my life—my very life! and I have no other!”
“Oh, Drusa! Drusa! Good Heaven! How is this to end! I wish from my soul you had never had the misfortune of meeting me!”
“Oh, Alick, why do you say that?”
“I don’t know!” he groaned. Then he answered evasively—“I am utterly unworthy of you. I cause you so much suffering.”
“But that comes of my weakness, not of your fault, dear Alick. Besides I am happy now, very happy now that I see you love me.”
“Little Drusa, did you ever doubt that?”
“I never doubted your faith, Alick. When you have kept away from me, I have doubted my own worthiness of your love.”
“My darling, if you were sure, entirely sure of my affection, could you then bear that I should be absent from you a great deal?”