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?‰mile, 1840-1902

"The Dream"


He held his hands out towards her and spoke:
"My dearest, I love you. I was told that you were ill, and came to you
immediately. Look at me! Here I am, and I love you."
She straightened herself up quickly. She shuddered, as with a mechanical
movement she passed her fingers over her eyes.
"Doubt no longer, then. See me at your feet, and realise that I love you
now, as I have ever done."
Then she exclaimed:
"Oh! is it you? I had given up expecting you, and yet you are here."
With her feeble, trembling hands, she had taken his, thus assuring
herself that he was not a fanciful vision of her sleep.
He continued:
"You have always loved me, and I love you for ever. Yes, notwithstanding
everything; and more deeply even than I should have ever thought it
possible to do."
It was an unhoped-for excess of happiness, and in this first minute of
absolute joy they forgot everything else in the world, giving themselves
up to the delightful certainty of their mutual affection, and their
ability to declare it. The sufferings of the past, the obstacles of
the future, had disappeared as if by magic. They did not even think of
asking how it was that they had thus come together. But there they were,
mingling their tears of joy together as they embraced each other with
the purest of feelings: he was overcome with pity that she was so worn
by grief and illness that she seemed like a mere shadow in his arms.


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