The Count of Monte Cristo

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said, 'Take this hand, dearest Maximilian, and believe that, living
or dead, I am yours--yours only, and forever!'" The poor girl made no
reply, but her lover could plainly hear her sobs and tears. A rapid
change took place in the young man's feelings. "Dearest, dearest
Valentine," exclaimed he, "forgive me if I have offended you, and forget
the words I spoke if they have unwittingly caused you pain."

"No, Maximilian, I am not offended," answered she, "but do you not see
what a poor, helpless being I am, almost a stranger and an outcast in
my father's house, where even he is seldom seen; whose will has been
thwarted, and spirits broken, from the age of ten years, beneath the
iron rod so sternly held over me; oppressed, mortified, and persecuted,
day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, no person has cared for,
even observed my sufferings, nor have I ever breathed one word on the
subject save to yourself. Outwardly and in the eyes of the world, I am
surrounded by kindness and affection; but the reverse is the case. The
general remark is, 'Oh, it cannot be expected that one of so stern a