I have so much to say,
and so little time to say it; so much, Diane--"
She started as he called her thus, as if in that moment of surprise she
would have risen from her chair by his side. She knew what was coming,
and having expected nothing so desperate, knew not how to arrest the
confession that she would fain have avoided hearing. M. Lenoble laid his
hand firmly on hers.
"So much, Diane; and yet so little, that all can be told in three words.
I love you."
"M. Lenoble!"
"Ah, you are surprised, you wonder, you look at me with eyes of sweet
amazement! Dear angel, do you think it is possible to see you and not to
love you? To see you once is to respect, to admire, to bow the knee
before beauty and goodness; but to see you many times, as I have done,
the patient consoler of an invalid and somewhat difficult father--ah, my
sweet love, who is there so hard amongst mankind that he should escape
from loving you, seeing all that?"
The question had a significance that the speaker knew not. Who amongst
mankind? Why, was there not one man for whom she would have been content
to be the veriest slave that ever abnegated every personal delight for
the love of a hard master? And he had passed her by, indifferent,
unseeing. She had worshipped him on her knees, as it seemed to her; and
he had left her kneeling in the dust, while he went on to offer himself,
heart and soul, at another shrine.
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