"
"I knew you were not," he said, and then he could think of nothing else
to say.
"But mother said she told you I was, and that she left the impression
on your mind that it was because you were going off. That is not true,
Mr. Westerfelt. I cannot presume to dictate to you about what you
ought to do. Besides, it really seems a sensible thing for you to go.
She said you promised not to leave, but I can't have it that way."
Something in the very firmness of her renunciation of him added weights
to his sinking spirits.
"You think it would be best for me to go?" he managed to articulate.
"Oh, do you, Harriet?"
"Yes, I do," she said, emphatically, after a little pause in which she
looked down at the ground. "I am only a girl, a poor weak girl, and
then--" raising her fine eyes steadily to his face--"I have _my_ pride,
too, you see, and it has never been so wounded before. If--if I had
not loved you as I have this would have been over between us long ago.
And then I excused you because you were sick and unjustly persecuted,
but you are well now, Mr. Westerfelt--well enough to know what's right
and just to a defenceless girl.
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