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had been struggling with tears for some time: I had taken great pains to repress them; because I knew he would not like to see me weep。 Now; however; I considered it well to let them flow as freely and as long as they liked。 If the flood annoyed him; so much the better。 So I gave way and cried heartily。
Soon I heard him earnestly entreating me to be posed。 I said I could not while he was in such a passion。
“But I am not angry; Jane: I only love you too well; and you had steeled your little pale face with such a resolute; frozen look; I could not endure it。 Hush; now; and wipe your eyes。”
His softened voice announced that he was subdued; so I; in my turn; became calm。 Now he made an effort to rest his head on my shoulder; but I would not permit it。 Then he would draw me to him: no。
“Jane! Jane!” he said; in such an accent of bitter sadness it thrilled along every nerve I had; “you don’t love me; then? It was only my station; and the rank of my wife; that you valued? Now that you think me disqualified to bee your husband; you recoil from my touch as if I were some toad or ape。”
These words cut me: yet what could I do or I say? I ought probably to have done or said nothing; but I was so tortured by a sense of remorse at thus hurting his feelings; I could not control the wish to drop balm where I had wounded。
“I do love you;” I said; “more than ever: but I must not show or indulge the feeling: and this is the last time I must express it。”
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