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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Beatrice"

I never loved anybody or anything till I began to love you.
And then I loved you more and more and more; till now I have only one
thought in all my life, and that thought is of you. While I am awake
I think of you, and when I am asleep I dream of you. Listen, Beatrice,
listen!--I have never loved any other woman, I have scarcely spoken to
one--only you, Beatrice. I can give you a great deal; and everything
I have shall be yours, only I should be jealous of you--yes, very
jealous!"
Here she glanced at his face. It was outwardly calm but white as death,
and in the blue eyes, generally so placid, shone a fire that by contrast
looked almost unholy.
"I think that you have said enough, Mr. Davies," Beatrice answered. "I
am very much obliged to you. I am much honoured, for in some ways I am
not your equal, but I do not love you, and I cannot marry you, and
I think it best to tell you so plainly, once and for all," and
unconsciously she went on digging the holes.
"Oh, do not say that," he answered, almost in a moan. "For God's sake
don't say that! It will kill me to lose you.


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