And I would do anything for you,--
except this. But it never can be. I should not write like this
unless I were quite certain. I hope you won't be angry with me and
think that I should have spared you the trouble of doubting so
long. I know now that I ought not to have doubted at all; but I was
so anxious not to seem to be obstinate that I became foolish about
it when you asked me. What I say now is quite certain.
Dear Mr. Twentyman, I shall always think of you with esteem and
regard, because I know how good you are; and I hope you will come
to like somebody a great deal better than me who will always love
you with her whole heart.
Yours very truly,
Mary Masters.
P.S. I shall show this letter to papa.
Mr. Masters read it as she stood by him,--and then read it again
very slowly rubbing one hand over the other as he did so. He was
thinking what he should do;--or rather what he should say. The idea
of stopping the letter never occurred to him.
If she chose to refuse the man of course she must do so; and
perhaps, if she did refuse him, there was no way better than this.
"Must it be so, Mary?" he said at last.
"Yes, papa."
"But why?"
"Because I do not love him as I should have to love any man that I
wanted to marry. I have tried it, because you wished it, but I
cannot do it"
"What will mamma say?"
"I am thinking more, papa, of you," she said putting her arm over
his shoulder.
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