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Austin, Jane G. (Jane Goodwin), 1831-1894

"Outpost"

It is kinder to us both."
The young man heaved a sigh of relief.
"That's it, Dora. There isn't another such girl in the world. Don't
you know, in camp I used to say I relied upon you for protection,
and for making a man of me instead of an idle boy? O Dora! there's
nothing you couldn't do with me."
He spoke the last words in an imploring voice, and fixed his eyes
upon her averted face. Then, as she did not speak, he went on:--
"It isn't any thing I can offer you, Dora, except the chance of
doing good: I know that well enough. What I am, you know; but what I
might become to please you none of us can know. And I do love you
so, Dora! I know it sounds bald and silly to say just those few
words; but they mean so much to me! and I've meant it so long and so
heartily! No; don't speak just yet: I want to make you feel first,
if I can, how dreadfully in earnest I am. When I first saw you there
at your old home, and you took care of me so tenderly, and looked at
me, so pityingly out of your great brown eyes, my heart warmed to
you; and then in camp, you know-O Dora Darling! you cannot say but
you knew how dearly I grew to love you even then: and when I found
you were my own kin; and when you came to my own home, and my mother
took you to her heart, and thanked God for having given her another
daughter, and such a daughter; and when I saw your daily life among
us, and saw how noble, and how unselfish, and how true, and brave,
you were through all the sorrow, and the trials, and the loneliness,
and the petty spite and insults, you had to endure; and then here,
where you are like a wise and gracious queen among her subjects,--O
Dora! what is there in you that does not call forth my highest love,
my truest reverence? and what better could life do for me than to
grant me the privilege of worshipping and following you all my days,
and making myself into just what sort of man would suit you best?"
And the true-hearted young fellow felt his words strike home to his
own soul so earnestly that he could add to them nothing of the flood
of tenderness and homage swelling there, but only looked at his
cousin piteously; while she, with drooping head and averted eyes,
rode on for a few moments in silence, and then said softly,--
"I hoped, dear Karl, you would never speak of it again.


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