For
a moment he could not speak.
"Burt," she said, "what is the matter? What do you fear?"
"I fear your scorn, Amy," he began, impetuously; "I fear I shall lose
your respect forever. But I can't go on any longer detesting myself and
feeling that you and Miss Hargrove despise me. I may seem to you and her
a fickle fool, a man of straw, but you shall both know the truth. I
shan't go away a coward. I can at least be honest, and then you may think
what you please of my weakness and vacillation. You cannot think worse
things than I think myself, but you must not imagine that I am a
cold-blooded, deliberate trifler, for that has never been true. I know
you don't care for me, and never did."
"Indeed, Burt, you are mistaken. I do care for you immensely," said Amy,
eagerly clasping his arm with both her hands.
"Amy, Amy," said Burt, in a low, desperate tone, "think how few short
months have passed since I told you I loved you, and protested I would
wait till I was gray. You have seen me giving my thoughts to another, and
in your mind you expect to see me carried away by a half-dozen more. You
are mistaken, but it will take a long time to prove it."
"No, Burt, I understand you better than you think. Gertrude has inspired
in you a very different feeling from the one you had for me. I think you
are loving now with a man's love, and won't get over it very soon, if you
ever do. You have seen, you must have felt, that my love for you was only
that of a sister, and of course you soon began to feel toward me in the
same way.
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