Bertha’s engagement

Is there no appeal, Miss Canfield—no hope in the future? Great Heavens! do you understand that these words are taking away my life?”
The young girl, who had just refused the most ardent love that man ever offered to woman, turned her horse half around, and looked with earnest sympathy into that handsome face.
“Do you think that I am cruel enough to say what I have said for the miserable pleasure of enticing you on to a renewal of the honor you have done me—or that I have not felt as much pain as it is possible for me to give? If human love were the growth of human will, Egbert Fletcher, you would not have asked for mine twice.”
She spoke frankly, and with intense earnestness, for the white despair in that face appealed to every noble feeling she possessed.
“I believe you; God knows, if you were less honorable, less perfect, some of this bitter disappointment would be spared me. Forgive me if I have been importunate; if I could not yield you up without a struggle.”