"Sairay," he said, with a little choke, "I--I couldn't stay away any
longer--when I heard about you--and I've come"--
He stopped again, but she did not help him out--she could not. With her
fingers locked together in her lap, she waited for what was coming, with
the feeling that she was drifting down stream, and had neither the
strength, nor inclination, to arrest her swift descent. He drew a sigh
that was almost a gasp, and plunged on,--
"Sairay, it's too hard for
you--all--all this--and I--Oh! you know how I love you--I've always
loved you, and what is the use in your working so when I'd give my very
eyes to take care of you? Don't speak, Sairay," raising his hand in
protest, "I've got a-going, now, and I want to say it all. I know I'm
not good enough for you--who is?--but if love that never tires, and
kindness, and--and--being as true as steel, and as tender as a mother,
can count for anything, they'll plead for me, Sairay; I'm not much on
fine speech-making, as you know."
He had risen, and stood before her, tall and stalwart, and, for the
moment, such strength and tenderness seemed good to her--why not accept
them, and be at rest? Perhaps he felt her yielding mood; at any rate, he
held out both hands with an assured gesture.
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