Yes, he had thought of it.
The idea that, being of mystery though she was, Ida was still a woman,
and that he might one day possess her as other men possess their wives,
had come to him, but it had caused such an ungovernable ferment in his
blood, and savoured withal of such temerity, that he had been fairly
afraid to indulge it. In the horizon of his mind it had hovered as a
dream of unimaginable felicity which might some day in the far future
come to pass; but that was all.
Finally he said, in a husky voice, "I love her."
"I know you do," replied Miss Ludington. "No one but myself knows how you
have loved her. You are the only man in the world worthy of her, but you
are worthy even of her."
"But she would not marry me," said Paul. "She is very good to me, but she
has never thought of such a thing. It is I that love her, and she is very
good to let me; but she does not love me. How should she?"
"I think she does," said Miss Ludington, with a tone of quiet assurance.
"I have never said anything to her about it; but I have observed her. A
woman can generally read a woman in that particular, and it would be
especially strange if I could not read her.
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