Poor Dick loves his unhappy sister. He won't go
without me--I should be his ruin--poor Dick, that really loves me;
and he lay a-dying here, and the good doctor and me--God bless him--we
brought him back from the grave. Ah, you little know what I have
gone through. You were not here. Catch you being near me when I am in
trouble. There, I must go. I must go. I will go; if I fling myself into
the sea half way."
"And, if you do, I'll take a dose of poison; for I have thrown away the
truest heart, the sweetest, most unselfish, kindest, generous--oh! oh!
oh!"
And he began to howl.
This set Phoebe sobbing. "Don't cry, dear," she murmured through her
tears; "if you have really any love for me, come with me."
"What, leave England, and go to a desert?"
"Love can make a desert a garden."
"Phoebe, I'll do anything else. I'll swear not to leave your side. I'll
never look at any other face but yours. But I can't live in Africa."
"I know you can't. It takes a little real love to go there with a poor
girl like me. Ah, well, I'd have made you so happy. We are not poor
emigrants. I have a horse for you to ride, and guns to shoot; and me and
Dick would do all the work for you. But there are others here you can't
leave for me.
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