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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"


"Ah! now you are pleased, Mr. Dodd; our misfortune will elicit your
skill in emergencies."
"Oh, no, it isn't that; it is--I never hoped to see you again so
soon."
Lucy colored, and her eyes sought the ground; the splice was soon
made.
"There!" said David; "I could have spent an hour over it; but you
would have been vexed, and the bitter moment must have come at last."

"God bless you, Miss Fountain--oh! mayn't I say Miss Lucy to-day?" he
cried, imploringly.
"Of course you may," said Lucy, the tears rising in her eyes at his
sad face and beseeching look. "Oh, Mr. Dodd, parting with those we
esteem is always sad enough; I got away from the door without
crying--for once; don't _you_ make me cry."
"Make you cry?" cried David, as it he had been suspected of
sacrilege; "God forbid!" He muttered in a choking voice, "You give the
word of command, for I can't."
"You can go on," said her soft, clear voice; but first she gave David
her hand with a gentle look--"Good-by."
But David could not speak to her. He held her hand tight in both his
powerful hands. They seemed iron to her--shaking, trembling, grasping
iron. The carriage went slowly on, and drew her hand away. She shrank
into a corner of the carriage; he frightened her.
He followed the carriage to the brow of the hill, then sat down upon a
heap of stones, and looked despairingly after it.

Meantime Lucy put her head in her hands and blushed, though she was
all alone.


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