‘And your reasons, Rose,’ he said, at length, in a low voice; ‘your reasons for this decision?’
‘You have a right to know them,’ rejoined Rose. ‘You can say nothing to alter my resolution. It is a duty that I must perform. I owe it, alike to others, and to myself.’
‘To yourself?’
‘Yes, Harry. I owe it to myself, that I, a friendless, portionless, girl, with a blight upon my name, should not give your friends reason to suspect that I had sordidly yielded to your first passion, and fastened myself, a clog, on all your hopes and projects. I owe it to you and yours, to prevent you from opposing, in the warmth of your generous nature, this great obstacle to your progress in the world.’
‘If your inclinations chime with your sense of duty—’ Harry began.
‘They do not,’ replied Rose, colouring deeply.
‘Then you return my love?’ said Harry. ‘Say but that, dear Rose; say but that; and soften the bitterness of this hard disappointment!’
‘If I could have done so, without doing heavy wrong to him I loved,’ rejoined Rose, ‘I could have—’
‘Have received this declaration very differently?’ said Harry. ‘Do not conceal that from me, at least, Rose.’
‘I could,’ said Rose. ‘Stay!’ she added, disengaging her hand, ‘why should we prolong this painful interview? Most painful to me, and yet productive of lasting happiness, notwithstanding; for it will be happiness to know that I once held the high place in your regard which I now occupy, and every triumph you achieve in life will animate me with new fortitude and firmness. Farewell, Harry! As we have met to-day, we meet no more; but in other relations than those in which this conversation have placed us, we may be long and happily entwined; and may every blessing that the prayers of a true and earnest heart can call down from the source of all truth and sincerity, cheer and prosper you!’