I paced back and forth on the doorstep, nervously considering how I was going to confess my love to Elizabeth - I felt the same giddiness I felt on my first day of boarding school. I knocked on the door, and was greeted by her maid and invited in. She informed me that Elizabeth was in the parlor. I rushed by her and made my way there. I saw the beautiful lady, and I attempted to make small talk, stalling so I could finish rearranging the words I was trying to get out. Somewhere in my subconscious I realized she was answering me very curtly. Our conversation ended in a moment of silence, and I knew that this was my chance to tell her everything. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” She blushed and silently stared at me with a questioning look. I stood there, awkwardly staring back at her, wondering what she’d say next. Maybe she’d tell me she loves me, too. Maybe she’d tell me that she’s loved me all along. But no, she just sat there, motionless with every passing moment. I was sure that she felt the exact same way, yet she wouldn’t admit it. Her eyes looked me up and down, then she turned and looked out the window. I observed her wandering eyes, her furrowed brow, deep in thought, trying to process all the emotions in her head at this very moment. I broke the silence and tried to explain to her that even though I’ve tried to avoid her, she was absolutely irresistible, that her compelling beauty couldn’t restrain me. I mentioned again that I love her and that I’d hoped she loved me in return. Even though I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, there was a hope that she’d still want to marry me. I could see that it was hard for her to be patient with me, so I immediately quieted down. She then stood up and shot me a cold mien. If looks could kill, I’d surely be dead right now. She did not appear very happy, in fact, she looked quite irritated, her face turning a dark shade of red. She tried hard to keep a civil tongue while she yelled at me, spilling all her emotions out on the table. I could understand why she was upset. However, I had no obvious intentions of making her so angry. “In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you.” I stared at her blankly. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “But I cannot - I
