If you do that, I
can tak' you back wi' me, an' gang to your faither an' say that it was
me that was responsible. It can be done, Mysie, if only you'll agree to
it. Come, Mysie!" he cried in a burst of passionate pleading. "I want
you. Mysie, Mysie! Say that you'll come."
Robert looked at her pale, thin, emaciated face with greedy pleading in
his eyes. He saw the thin-looking, hungry body as it shook with her
sobs, and that terrible cough, which seemed as if it would carry her
away before his eyes. "Say you'll come, Mysie!" he pleaded, his hands
held out appealingly. "Say you'll come, an' it'll be so easy."
"No, no," she sobbed vehemently, "I canna do that. Dinna ask me ony
mair, Rob, I canna do that. It wadna be fair."
A hopeless look came into his eyes as he listened to her words, for he
knew that Mysie could never consent to his proposal. Frail as she was,
and torn by her wish to agree, yet he knew she meant it, when she said
no.
"Where do you live, Mysie?" he enquired at last, thinking to find some
way of helping her. "Wad you gie me your address, so that I'll ken where
you bide?"
"No, I dinna want to tell you, Rob. You'd better gang awa' noo.
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