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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

"
Then came another silence.
"Don't you enjoy it?" she asked, looking off at the stars.
"Too much." said he. "First, I must teach you something--if I can."
He was ready for a query, if it came, but she put him off.
"I intend to be a grand lady," said she, "and, if you do not learn,
you'll never be able to dance with me."
"There'll be others to dance with you," said he. "I have so much
else to do."
"Oh, you're always thinking about algebra and arithmetic and those
dreadful things," said she.
"No, I'm thinking now of something very different."
"Grammar, I suppose," said she, looking down.
"Do you remember the conjugations?"
"Try me," said she.
"Give me the first person singular, passive voice, present tense,
of the verb to love."
"I am loved," was her answer, as she looked away.
"And don't you know--I love you," said he, quickly.
"That is the active voice," said she, turning with a smile.
"Polly," said he, "I love you as I could love no other in the
world."
He drew her close, and she looked up at him very soberly.
"You love me?" she said in a half whisper.
"With all my heart," he answered. "I hope you will love me
sometime."
Their lips came together.


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