230 MY COUSIN. 
“ Because you never do any thing I ask you to.” 
“ Indeed I do ! ” said she, earnestly. 
“ I wish I could think so,” said I, pensively. 
We were standing by the window, and I 
thought her hand trembled as I spoke; but she 
only turned her head away with a sigh, and with¬ 
out speaking gazed out upon the lawn. At an¬ 
other time, perhaps, she would have listened to 
my language differently; but as I was going 
away, perhaps forever, it made her so pensive. 
Yet she did not know her own feelings. Some¬ 
thing told her to grant my boon — it was but a 
trifle — it seemed so foolish to hesitate ; but then 
something whispered to her that she ought not to 
do it. But then it would be so reserved and un- 
cousinly to refuse; and might I not be justly 
offended at her prudence ? I could hear her 
breathe, and see her snowy bosom heave, as she 
held her taper finger in a puzzle to her mouth. 
The conflict was going on between love and re¬ 
serve ; and yet — poor little girl! — she knew it 
not. 
“ And you really won’t come to-morrow night, 
without — without— *” she paused, and blushed; 
while the low, soft, half-reproachful tone in which 
she spoke — softer than angels’ softest whisper 
— smote me to the heart, and almost made me re¬ 
pent my determination. But then it was so pret¬ 
ty to see her look perplexed ! 
“ Ellen,” said I, as if hurt, “ I am serious — 
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