"
"It is not: I won't submit." He made a motion to rise.
"Do not come near me," she cried with growing agitation. "You have
brought me my death. Oh, Maurice!"--here her voice sank
pathetically--"why did you make me love you? I shall die--nothing can
persuade me to believe otherwise--and it will be soon, soon, soon."
"How very unreasonable, dear Fay! You have long acknowledged your
love, yet nothing has happened."
"It is about to happen."
"Come and sit by me," he begged.
"Never again: it must be ended. All day this miserable feeling has
oppressed me. I have tried to shake it off, but cannot. It is a
warning--it is horrible. Death is near, close, close. I must cease
loving you or pay the penalty."
Her wan face presented such a picture of grief, her, voice expressed
such an excess of suffering, that Maurice felt his eyes grow dim.
Scarcely less moved than herself, he replied, "You cannot cease loving
me, dear, dear Fay, nor can I bear to lose you. Let us end this
struggle by an immediate marriage. You will then be calm--you will be
happy. I will go to your father at once and make the arrangements: he
will consent when I explain.
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