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CHRISTIAN FORD'S TROUBLES.

are very young yet—barely twenty; and I am twenty-three—a woman schooled and disciplined by trials, while you, from the careless ease of your life, are still a boy in heart.”

He flushed angrily os any very young man does at that word.

“I don’t see any necessity of your constantly reminding me of that!”

“It is not to annoy you, only to remind you of the impossibility of your knowing at present whether your affection for me will continue un¬ changed. Be just to me, Robert; remember how terrible is the fate of a neglected wife.”

“Can you not trust me?—do you believe me brute enough to treat you unkindly?”

“Never that; but to know that your heart had changed toward me would be worse.”

“But when I tell you that can never happen! Oh, you do not love me, Christian; you treat me like a child—my love is only idle play to you.”

She made no answer to his passionate reproaches, only looked at him with those clear, penetrating eyes, in whose depths darkened such a world of sadness.

“Why don’t you speak to me, Christian? I believe you are made of marble; I cannot find a touch of genuine feeling about you! Do at least be angry; even harsh words would be better than this stony silence.”

“Do not your very words prove how unfitted we are to each other, Robert? You are pas¬ sionate and exacting, and I cannot reply to your bitter words, although they wound me no less deeply.”

“Forgive me—I will not speak so again! Only be kind to me, Christian—you seem so far off— I feel as if a great wall separated us, which I cannot pass. Tell me that you love me; do not torture me in this way, I cannot bear it.”

Torture him! Her feelings, her sufferings were unthought of; only the inborn selfishness of his sex spoke in his passion!

“We could not marry for many, many years, Robert! I am poor, and you are dependent upon your mother, I am certain that she would never give her consent.”

“I am not a child, to be governed by her.”

“Hush! Do you think I would become her son’s wife against her wishes? Then too I have a sacred trust; my poor, blind aunt is entirely dependent upon me—I would marry no man now.”

“But she should be my care too! Think how happy we might be, Christian! We would live in some quiet little nook—here perhaps—happy in each other, asking nothing of the world but its forgetfulness, till life would seem a real fairy dream of delight.”

Her heart beat rapturously at his romantic folly, then the stern reality checked that out- burst.

“But such an existence would not be life, Robert! We were put into this world to be of use, we should have no right to settle down in idleness, even had we the means. Then too we should grow old, and romance would not last forever.”

“How can you be so calculating, Christian?” “Because I look at life as it is—another proof how much older I have grown than you.”

“I cannot argue, Christian, I will not! Answer me at once—will you be my wife?”

“When?”

“Now—why should we wait?”

“That you know to be impossible.”

“But if I go away and toil hard for a name, s will you marry me when I return?”

“Oh! Robert, it is not success that would move me—you would be even dearer in adversity.”

“Then you do care for me—you will not send me away wholly wretched?”

“I will not fetter you by an engagement, Go away with your mother as she commands—I have reason to believe that she wishes to separate us.”

But she has never mentioned you to me! Promise, Christian—give me a hope.”

“None, Robert; you have no right to ask it.”

“And you have no right to torture me in this way! I must have this hope to build upon, or I shall have no courage.”

“Go, Robert! Bo the timejong or short, you will find me unchanged—whether circumstances then will allow me to speak I do not know.”

He stamped upon the ground in hot rage, and broke into a torrent of reproaches. In that very love he showed himself more boyish than anything else; no wonder that clear-sighted woman could not trust his earnest protestations, even had there been no other reason to hesitate.

“Then you will not speak?”

“You must go perfectly free, Robert; I will have you bound by no vow; years hence, honor shall not force you to bring back to me the ashes of a spent affection.”

“Farewell, then!” he exclaimed, turning to go. “This is your work; whatever happens now, remember that it is your doing.”

She did not answer. Again he came to her side.

“Will you not hear me? Oh, Christian, be mine! Speak, do speak!”