"Miss Ida," he said earnestly, "I would rather every tear you are
shedding were a drop of my blood," but his words only made them
flow faster still.
Suddenly she sprang up, and turning her back upon him, dashed away
her tears almost fiercely. "Oh! this is shameful!" she exclaimed,
in low, indignant tones. "Mr. Van Berg, what must you think of
me? Please turn Mr. Eltinge's face away, for he is looking at me
just as he did when my heart was breaking, and--and--I've lost my
self-control, and I had better not come here till I can cease being
so weak and foolish."
"Is it weak to be grateful?" he asked, gently. "Is it foolish to
love one so thoroughly entitled to your love? I honor you for your
deep and tender affection for Mr. Eltinge, and every tear you have
shed proves to me that in this perfect flower I am now finding the
true emblem of yourself."
"No," she said, almost passionately, "I have no right to it. The
other one that you threw away is true of me, and always will be.
This but mocks me with its perfection. I would be a hypocrite if
I should put it in my hair, and smile complacently while you painted
it. My heart clings to the other emblem, and I know I must develop
as best I can, as that would have done after its destroyer was
taken away.
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