I am a proud man, and it is hard to tell you this--but I cannot bear this coldness from you--and _I ask you to forgive me_" His eyes, his voice, had all their unconquerable influence upon me.

I bent over Richard's poor flowers, and pulled them to pieces while I tried to speak.

There was a silence, during which he must have heard the loud beating of my heart, I think: at last he spoke again in a lower voice, "Will you not be kind, and say that we are friends once more ?" I said something that was inaudible to him, and he stooped a little nearer me to catch it.

I made a great effort and commanded my voice and said, very low?
but with an attempt to speak lightly, "You have not made it any better, but I will forget it." He caught my hand for one instant, then let it go as suddenly.

And neither of us could speak.
There is no position more false and trying than a woman's, when she is told in this way that a man loves her, and yet has not been told it; when she must seem not to see what she would be an idiot not to see; when he can say what he pleases and she must seem to hear only so much.
I did no better and no worse than most women of my years would have done.