1 Father loved me, first, for her sake.
2 I never made a pretence to him or you that I loved him.
3 Louisa understood the loving pretence, and her heart smote her.
4 Tom, love, I am telling Mr. Harthouse that he never saw you abroad.
5 And the trees arched over him, whispering that he left a true and loving heart behind.
6 What she has done for him demands his constant love and gratitude, not his ill-humour and caprice.
7 But if you ask me whether I have loved him, or do love him, I tell you plainly, father, that it may be so.
8 But if you ask me whether I have loved him, or do love him, I tell you plainly, father, that it may be so.
9 She left her love for her brother, with her eyes full of tears; and she and Sissy went away until later in the afternoon.
10 I have admired you at a distance; and if I have come to town sometimes, with long times between, to take a proud peep at you, I have done it unbeknown, my love, and gone away again.
11 They all confusedly went out: Louisa crying to him that she forgave him, and loved him still, and that he would one day be sorry to have left her so, and glad to think of these her last words, far away: when some one ran against them.
12 Then the wretched boy looked cautiously up and found her gone, crept out of bed, fastened his door, and threw himself upon his pillow again: tearing his hair, morosely crying, grudgingly loving her, hatefully but impenitently spurning himself, and no less hatefully and unprofitably spurning all the good in the world.