"And she will not tell me nay," he said. "It will come to her as
it has to me--the love we have unconsciously borne each other."
He arose to leave the room, but meeting his sister in the door, he
turned back, and seating himself with her in the deep recess of
the window, he told her of the mighty love which had been so long
maturing, and of whose existence he did not dream until another
essayed to come between him and the object of his affection.
"And, Louise," he said, "Dora Deane must be mine. Are you willing--
will you call her sister, and treat her as my wife?"
And Mrs. Elliott answered, "I know, my brother, that you love Dora
Deane. I knew it when I asked you that question, and if to-night I
tried to tease you by making you believe it possible that she
cared for Mr. Trevors, it was to show you the nature of your
feelings for her. And I am willing that it should be so--but not
yet. You must not speak to her of love, until you return. Hear me
out," she continued, as she saw in him a gesture of impatience,
"Dora is no longer a child--but she is too young to be trammeled
with an engagement.
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