"Mean? I mean that I love you." "Then, why don't you say what you mean?" The young man looked at her a moment. "Will you give me leave," he asked, "to say _all_ that I mean?" "Of course." Then, as he remained silent, "I listen," added Gertrude. Yet he still said nothing, but went striking vehemently at the weeds by the water's edge, like one who may easily burst into tears of rage. "Gertrude!" he suddenly exclaimed, "what more do you want than the assurance that I love you?" "I want nothing more. That assurance is by itself delightful enough. You yourself seemed to wish to add something more." "Either you won't understand me," cried Richard, "or"--flagrantly vicious for twenty seconds--"you can't!" Miss Whittaker stopped and looked thoughtfully into his face. "In our position," she said, "if it becomes you to sacrifice reflection to feeling, it becomes me to do the reverse. Listen to me, Richard. I _do_ understand you, and better, I fancy, than you understand yourself." "O, of course!" But she continued, heedless of his interruption. "I thought that, by leaving you to yourself awhile, your feelings might become clearer to you. But they seem to be growing only more confused. I have been so fortunate, or so unfortunate, I hardly know which,"--and she smiled faintly,--"as to please you. That's all very well, but you must not make too much of it. Nothing can make me happier than to please you, or to please any one. But here it must stop with you, as it stops with others." "It does not stop here with others." "I beg your pardon. You have no right to say that. It is partly out of justice to others that I speak to you as I am doing. I shall always be one of your best friends, but I shall never be more. It is best I should tell you this at once. I might trifle with you awhile and make you happy (since upon such a thing you are tempted to set your happiness) by allowing you to suppose that I had given you my heart; but the end would soon come, and then where should we be? You may in your disappointment call me heartless now,--I freely give you leave to call me anything that may ease your mind,--but what would you call me then? Friendship, Richard, is a heavenly cure for love. Here is mine," and she held out her hand.