It was like the sudden cessation of dreadful and long-continued pain: it was Heaven.

I was crying for joy.

But at last the reaction came, and I had to think of him.
"Oh, Richard," I cried, going toward him, (he was sitting by the window, and his hand concealed his eyes.) "I don't know what you think of me, I hope you can forgive me." He did not speak, and I felt a dreadful pang of self-reproach.
"Richard," I said, crying, and taking hold of his hand, "I am ashamed of myself for being glad.

I will marry you yet, if you want me to.

I know how good you have been to me.