“Ah, darling, thank you for uttering that one word. Bless you. You will give yourself to me—you are mine!”
He passed his arm around her waist, and drawing her tenderly toward him bent a look of eager love upon her fair face.
But she quietly disengaged herself from his embrace, and though the tears were in her lovely eyes, and her voice trembled with every word she uttered, there was a quiet firmness in her manner that crushed every atom of hope from his breast.
“Mr. Weimher, I am pained beyond measure at your words, for they make me feel as if I had deceived you with false hopes; but what you ask can never be!”
She paused a moment, then went on, sadly:
“I have loved you—nay, hear me,” she added, quickly, as he flashed a look of joy at her—“I have respected you as a friend, and loved you as I would a brother, but I never dreamed you cherished a deeper feeling for me. I thought Miss Nettie Allen had your heart’s best and deepest devotion!”
“Oh, Dora, my lost love, I cannot bear this,” he groaned.
“Yes, my friend, you must bear it, though it pains me to say it. I have always treated you openly and frankly, have I not?”
“Yes, but—oh, cruel fate! I had so hoped there might be something deeper beneath.”
“Forgive me, Fredrich, if I have unintentionally misled you. But I can never give you more than a sister’s affection, and that you shall have.”