"
"I have loved two people, and lost them both. I do not mean to love
any one else," said Dora, quietly withdrawing her hand.
Mr. Burroughs stared at her in astonishment; and, with a directness
more natural than conventional, exclaimed,--
"You have loved twice already!"
"Yes. Three times, indeed. I loved my mother and Picter, and they
are both dead. I loved Sunshine and she is lost to me. O my little
Sunshine! who was all to me, and who, I thought"--
And then-oh rare result of all these days of suffering, and hidden
bitterness, and a lingering relinquishment of the sweet and tender
hope of her future life!-Dora gave way all at once, and, covering
her face with her hands, burst into a passion of tears; such tears
as women seldom weep; such tears as Dora herself had shed but two or
three times in her short life.
Mr. Burroughs sat for a moment, looking at her with a yearning
tenderness in his eyes, and then folded her suddenly in his arms,
whispering,--
"Dora, Dora Darling! I love you, and I will be to you more than all
these; and no time nor chance shall rob you of my love, if only you
will give me yours instead."
But Dora repulsed him vehemently, sobbing, "No, no, no! you shall
not say it! I will not hear it!"
"Not say it? Why not? It is God's truth; and you must have known it
before to-day.
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