But there was an alternative that would recur again and again to his
fancy, though in rather a confused and breathless way. What if, in the
very despair of losing her altogether, at the very moment of parting
with her, he had made bold to claim this proud-spirited maiden all for
himself? Might not some such sudden and audacious proposal have been
the very thing to appeal to her--the very thing to capture her? A
challenge--a demand that she should submit--that she should come down
from those serene heights of independence and yield herself a willing
and gracious helpmeet and companion for life to this daring suitor;
might not that have secured for him this wondrous prize? If she had any
regard for him at all, she might have been startled into confession. A
couple of words--there by the side of the Aivron--might have been
enough. No theatrical professions nor mock homage, no kneeling at her
feet or swearing by eternal stars; but a look into her eyes--a clasp of
the hand--a single question? Something he had indeed meant to say to
her, as they stood face to face there for the last time--something, he
hardly knew what; and yet his hesitation had been but natural; he might
have been hurried into saying too much; he dared not offend.
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