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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"


"Come now," he said, "I'm glad I've put you in a rage! I've got
over mine. I'll tell you the whole truth: there is nothing between
me and the girl--nothing whatever, I give you my word, except an
innocent flirtation. Ask herself."
"My lord," said Donal, "I believe what you mean me to understand. I
thought nothing worse of it myself."
"Then why the devil kick up such an infernal shindy about it?"
"For these reasons, my lord:--"
"Oh, come! don't be long-winded."
"You must hear me."
"Go on."
"I will suppose she does not imagine you mean to marry her."
"She can't!"
"Why not?"
"She's not a fool, and she can't imagine me such an idiot!"
"But may she not suppose you love her?"
He tried to laugh.
"You have never told her so?--never said or done anything to make
her think so?"
"Oh, well! she may think so--after a sort of a fashion!"
"Would she speak to you again if she heard you talking so of the
love you give her?"
"You know as well as I do the word has many meanings?"
"And which is she likely to take? That which is confessedly false
and worth nothing?"
"She may take which she pleases, and drop it when she pleases."
"But now, does she not take your words of love for more than they
are worth?"
"She says I will soon forget her."
"Will any saying keep her from being so in love with you as to reap
misery? You don't know what the consequences may be! Her love
wakened by yours, may be infinitely stronger than yours!"
"Oh, women don't now-a-days die for love!" said his lordship,
feeling a little flattered.


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