“I hope I have always treated you with kindness; it has certainly been my intention to do so.”

“No, Miss Mandeville, not with kindness, pardon me, but it has only been with cold civility.  I am sure that if you only knew how my heart yearns for a gentle and hopeful word from your adored lips, how it bleeds and recoils within my bosom when your cold words pierce it as with an arrow, you would certainly relent.”

“The heart, Mr. Duffel, is not master of its own emotions; they come unbidden often, and not unfrequently remain when we would gladly have them depart.”

“May I trust that in those words there is hope for me—­that you would really banish old memories and old prejudices, and receive me as my heart continually pleads to be received?”

“I am not aware that any such changes as those of which you speak have taken place in my mind or memory.  I have no old and dear memories that I wish to banish; and I believe my feelings toward you have not materially changed.”

“Oh, what crushing words!  Surely your heart cannot be so hard as to drive me away in despair, when my spirit is bleeding at the wounds your cruel words have made.”

“As I was saying, when you were so impetuous as to interrupt me, a few moments ago, we cannot bid our feelings go and come as we would.  The heart will not love this one or that, at the dictates of cold, calculating intellect, and the more it is urged to do so, the farther it is from yielding, especially when harsh means or commands are used to bend it.  If you have permitted your feelings to rest upon me as you say they do, it is your misfortune, not my fault; and because I cannot reciprocate your feelings and wishes, you have no right to task me with cruelty or hard-heartedness; and I hope you will not forget this in any future remarks you may have to make on the subject.”

“Pardon me, my dear Miss Mandeville, if, in the bitterness of my disappointment, I have spoken harsh or unguarded words.  When we are in deep distress and anxiety we are apt to say and do things that we should not.  It was farthest from my design to wound your gentle heart, or say one ungenerous word to you, the best beloved of my friends.  Should you ever have the misfortune to endure the pangs of unrequited love, which may Heaven forbid, you will know how to feel for me, and to appreciate my situation.”

“Perhaps it would be well for you to cease conversing on a subject so painful.”

“Ah, there it is.  Great sorrows are uppermost in the mind, and though every word brings a tear to the eye, and sends a pang to the heart, we must talk about them.”

“I was always impressed with the idea that such griefs as lay hold upon the soul, were too deep for utterance.”

“Yes, when the last ray of hope is gone, and the night of despair settles upon the soul.  But, oh, must I go out into that unillumed darkness, forever shut out from light and hope?  Is there no hope that I may some day call you more than friend? that in time, even though it be years in the future, I may be able to awaken emotions of tenderness in your heart?”