"Dora, I have not dared, as you fear that I have, to fancy that you
cared for me. A moment ago, I should not have dared to ask you as I
now do; and remember, Dora, that I ask for the solemn truth,--do you
love me?"
Dora tore away her hand indignantly, and attempted to rise. She had
not spoken, or looked at him. Over the pale face of the lover shot a
gleam of triumph. But he only said,--
"Dora, it will not be like you to leave me in this way. It is unjust
and untrue."
"It is you who are unkind and ungenerous," said the girl
passionately.
"Why, Dora? Why is it ungenerous to ask for a confession of your
love, when I have already told you that all my heart is in your
hands?"
"You fancied that I-that I-liked you; and you knew I did not want to
go home, and you pitied me: and I won't have it, sir. I do not need
pity, and I do not"--
Her voice died away, killed by the falsehood she could not speak.
Mr. Burroughs no longer pressed for an answer to the question he had
asked, but grasped at a new argument.
"Pity and kindness!" sadly repeated he. "Dora, if you only knew how
much more I stand in need of your pity than you of mine, if you only
knew what kindness your life has already done mine, you would not
treat me in this manner."
"You need my pity!" exclaimed Dora, forgetting herself, and turning
to look at him in nave astonishment; "and for what?"
"For a purposeless and weary life; for an empty heart and a corroded
faith," said her lover bitterly; "for an indifference to men,
amounting almost to aversion; for a trifling estimate of women,
amounting almost to contempt; for wasted abilities and neglected
opportunities,--for all these, Dora, I need your pity, and have a
right to claim it: for it is only since I loved you that I have
recognized my own great needs and deficiencies. Complete the work
you have unconsciously begun, dearest. Reverse the fairy fable, and
let the beautiful princess come to waken with her kiss the slothful
prince, who else might sleep forever."
"How can you know so soon that I am the princess?" asked Dora shyly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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