"I cannot listen; truly I cannot; I must not. It
would make us both very unhappy, and you would be sure to regret such
hasty words."
"Regret!" and he yet clung to the hand which she scarcely endeavored to
release, bending forward, hoping to read in her hidden eyes the secret
her lips guarded. "Am I, then, not old enough to know my own mind?"
"Yes--yes; I hope so, yes; but it is not for me; it can never be for
me--I am no more than a child, a homeless waif, a nobody. You forget
that I do not even know who I am, or the name I ought rightfully to
bear. I will not have it so."
"Naida, sweetheart!" and he burst impetuously through all bonds of
restraint, her flushed cheeks the inspiration to his daring. "I will
speak, for I care nothing for all this. It is you I love--love
forever. Do you understand me, darling? I love you! I love you!"
For an instant,--one glad, weak, helpless, forgetful instant,--she did
not see him, did not even know herself; the very world was lost. Then
she awoke as if from a dream, his strong arms clasped about her, his
lips upon hers.
"You must not," she sobbed. "I tell you no! I will not consent; I
will not be false to myself.
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