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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

"
Donal could not speak. He knew she was dying.
"Mr. Grant," she began again, "my soul is open to his eyes, and is
not ashamed. I know I am going to do what would by the world be
counted unwomanly; but you and I stand before our Father, not before
the world. I ask you in plain words, knowing that if you cannot do
as I ask you willingly, you will not do it. And be sure I shall
plainly be dying before I claim the fulfilment of your promise if
you give it. I do not want your answer all at once: you must think
about it."
Here she paused a while, then said,
"I want you to marry me, if you will, before I go."
Donal could not yet speak. His soul was in a tumult of emotion.
"I am tired," she said. "Please go and think it over. If you say no,
I shall only say, 'He knows best what is best!' I shall not be
ashamed. Only you must not once think what the world would say: of
all people we have nothing to do with the world! We have nothing to
do but with God and love! If he be pleased with us, we can afford to
smile at what his silly children think of us: they mind only what
their vulgar nurses say, not what their perfect father says: we need
not mind them--need we?--I wonder at myself," she went on, for Donal
did not utter a word, "for being able to speak like this; but then I
have been thinking of it for a long time--chiefly as I lie awake. I
am never afraid now--not though I lie awake all night: 'perfect love
casteth out fear,' you know.


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