"I think you must have already guessed what it is that I have to say to
you, Lucy. You cannot be ignorant of the feeling with which I regard
you; you must have discovered long ago that I love you, Lucy, deeply,
passionately, tenderly, as a man loves only once in his lifetime. We
have not known each other _very_ long, it is true," he continued after a
slight pause, during which he had vainly looked into her downcast face
for some sign of encouragement, "but the time has been long enough for
me to learn that all my hopes of future happiness depend on you; and I
think it has also been long enough to enable you to judge whether you
can entrust your happiness to me or not. I know I am by no means what I
ought to be,"--here he made another pause, hoping for some word or sign
of disclaimer, which, however, never came--"but I hope you will not
judge me too harshly. I am an orphan, remember. Robbed at an early age
of a mother's tender care and gentle training, I have been left pretty
much to the mercy of strangers, who allowed me to grow up to manhood
without an effort to check the development of those evil propensities
which we all alike inherit from our first parents; and then, too, I have
had the misfortune to be thrown--against my will, I honestly assure
you--into evil companionship. But, in spite of all these disadvantages,
I flatter myself that I am by no means a bad sort of fellow; and if you
will only take me in hand, Lucy, I feel sure you could make a reformed
character of me. And then, too, consider the society into which I could
introduce you. Wearing his Majesty's uniform, as I do, I could--"
"Pray say no more, Edward, I beg," interrupted Lucy. "I am grieved to
be obliged to disappoint you--though I do not think the disappointment
will be very great--but what you ask is quite impossible. In the first
place I must frankly say that I do not love you; and in the second I
must with equal frankness say that, though I might love ever so much, I
would _never_ marry a man who needed that I should `take him in hand' to
make a reformed character of him. You are my cousin, and, as such, I
shall always regard you with friendly interest; but I shall never be
able to entertain for you any warmer feeling."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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