Mr. Russell
was eloquent, passionate and convincing. He assured Barbara that she was
the only woman he had ever loved with such force and conviction that in
the end she almost believed him. But this belief, if it existed, did not
in the least shake her absolutely definite determination to have nothing
whatsoever to do with her would-be lover.
Not until she had told him so six times, however, did he consent to
believe her, for indeed he had been led to expect a very different
answer.
"I suppose you care for someone else," he said at last.
"Yes," said Barbara, whose back, metaphorically, was against the wall.
"Somebody much more--suitable."
"No," said Barbara, "he is poor and not distinguished and has all his
way to make in the world."
"He might change his mind, or--die."
"If so, I should not change mine," said Barbara. "Very likely I shall
not marry him, but I shall not marry anyone else."
"In heaven's name, why not?"
"Because it would be a sacrilege against heaven."
Then at last Mr. Russell understood.
"Allow me to offer you my good wishes and to assure you of my earnest
and unalterable respect," he said in a somewhat broken voice, and taking
her hand he touched it lightly with his lips, turned, and departed out
of Barbara's sight and life.
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