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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

"
"Is she engaged?"'
"No, but--but, sir, I think she is nearly heartbroken."
"I'm sorry," said Trove. "Not that she may choose another, but
that she lost faith in me."
"Poor child! Long ago she thought you had ceased to love her,"
said the widow, her voice trembling,
"I loved her as I can never love again," said he, his elbow resting
on a table, his head leaning on his hand. He spoke calmly.
"Don't let it kill you, boy," said she.
"No," he answered. "A man must be greater than his trouble; I have
work to do, and I shall not give up. May I go and see Polly?"
"Not now," said the widow, "give her time to find her own way. If
you deserve her love it will return to you."
"I fear that you, too, have lost faith in me," said Trove.
"No," she answered, "but surely Darrel is not the guilty one. It's
all such a mystery."
"Mrs. Vaughn, do not suffer yourself to think evil of me or of
Darrel. If I do lose your daughter, I hope I may not lose your
good opinion." The young man spoke earnestly and his eyes were wet.
"I shall not think evil of you," said the woman.
Trove stood a moment, his hand upon the latch.
"If there's anything I can do for you or for Polly," said he, "I
should like to know it.


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