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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

"
Dolly knew as well as he did the word he longed to use, but feared.
She liked this state of mind in him, and she liked him too for all his
kindness, and his humble worship; and she could not help admiring him
for his bravery and simplicity. But she did not know the value yet of a
steadfast and unselfish heart, and her own was not quite of that order.
So many gallant officers were now to be seen at her father's house, half
a cubit taller than poor Blyth, and a hundred cubits higher in rank, and
wealth, and knowledge of the world, and the power of making their wives
great ladies. Moreover, she liked a dark man, and Scudamore was fair and
fresh as a rose called Hebe's Cup in June. Another thing against him was
that she knew how much her father liked him; and though she loved her
father well, she was not bound to follow his leadings. And yet she did
not wish to lose this useful and pleasant admirer.
"I am not at all ambitious," she replied, without a moment's hesitation,
for the above reflections had long been dealt with, "but how I wish I
could do something to deserve even half that you say of me! But I
fear that you find the air getting rather cold. The weather is so
changeable."
"Are you sure that you are not ambitious?" Scudamore was too deeply
plunged to get out of it now upon her last hint; and to-morrow he must
be far away. "You have every right to be ambitious, if such a word can
be used of you, who are yourself the height of so many ambitions.


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