“If it were a new hardship it would be a new reason for me to cling to you,” said Dorothea, fervidly. “Nothing could have changed me but⁠—” her heart was swelling, and it was difficult to go on; she made a great effort over herself to say in a low tremulous voice, “but thinking that you were different⁠—not so good as I had believed you to be.”

“You are sure to believe me better than I am in everything but one,” said Will, giving way to his own feeling in the evidence of hers. “I mean, in my truth to you. When I thought you doubted of that, I didn’t care about anything that was left. I thought it was all over with me, and there was nothing to try for⁠—only things to endure.”

“I don’t doubt you any longer,” said Dorothea, putting out her hand; a vague fear for him impelling her unutterable affection.