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Blissful

           Soweparted;IridingallthewaytoLondonwiththefarewelltouchofDora’shandstilllightonmine,recallingeveryincidentandwordtenthousandtimes;lyingdowninmyownbedatlast,asenrapturedayoungnoodleaseverwascarriedoutofhisfivewitsbylove.

           WhenIawokenextmorning,IwasresolutetodeclaremypassiontoDora,andknowmyfate.Happinessormiserywasnowthequestion.TherewasnootherquestionthatIknewofintheworld,andonlyDoracouldgivetheanswertoit.Ipassedthreedaysinaluxuryofwretchedness,torturingmyselfbyputtingeveryconceivablevarietyofdiscouragingconstructiononallthateverhadtakenplacebetweenDoraandme.Atlast,arrayedforthepurposeatavastexpense,IwenttoMissMills’s,fraughtwithadeclaration.

           HowmanytimesIwentupanddownthestreet,androundthesquare-painfullyawareofbeingamuchbetteranswertotheoldriddlethantheoriginalonebeforeIcouldpersuademyselftogoupthestepsandknock,isnomatternow.Evenwhen,atlast,Ihadknocked,andwaswaitingatthedoor,IhadsomeflurriedthoughtofaskingifthatwereMr.Blackboy’s(inimitationofpoorBarkis),beggingpardon,andretreating.ButIkeptmyground.

           Mr.Millswasnotathome.Ididnotexpecthewouldbe.NobodywantedHIM.MissMillswasathome.MissMillswoulddo.

           Iwasshownintoaroomupstairs,whereMissMillsandDorawere.Jipwasthere.

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Roboto Lora
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