The Last Man


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hand, said, "Not a word more shall my sweet Perdita read of this contention  
of madmen and fools. I must not permit you to be acquainted with the extent  
of my delusion, lest you despise me; although, believe me, a wish to appear  
before you, not vanquished, but as a conqueror, inspired me during my wordy  
war."  
Perdita looked at him like one amazed; her expressive countenance shone for  
a moment with tenderness; to see him only was happiness. But a bitter  
thought swiftly shadowed her joy; she bent her eyes on the ground,  
endeavouring to master the passion of tears that threatened to overwhelm  
her. Raymond continued, "I will not act a part with you, dear girl, or  
appear other than what I am, weak and unworthy, more fit to excite your  
disdain than your love. Yet you do love me; I feel and know that you do,  
and thence I draw my most cherished hopes. If pride guided you, or even  
reason, you might well reject me. Do so; if your high heart, incapable of  
my infirmity of purpose, refuses to bend to the lowness of mine. Turn from  
me, if you will,--if you can. If your whole soul does not urge you to  
forgive me--if your entire heart does not open wide its door to admit me  
to its very centre, forsake me, never speak to me again. I, though sinning  
against you almost beyond remission, I also am proud; there must be no  
reserve in your pardon--no drawback to the gift of your affection."  
Perdita looked down, confused, yet pleased. My presence embarrassed her; so  
that she dared not turn to meet her lover's eye, or trust her voice to  
assure him of her affection; while a blush mantled her cheek, and her  
disconsolate air was exchanged for one expressive of deep-felt joy. Raymond  
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