“There is something I want to say to you.” “Oh, don’t say it,” cried Anne, pleadingly. “Don’t—please, Gilbert.” “I must. Things can’t go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I—I can’t tell you how much. Will you promise me that some day you’ll be my wife?” “I—I can’t,” said Anne miserably. “Oh, Gilbert—you—you’ve spoiled everything.” “Don’t you care for me at all?” Gilbert asked after a very dreadful pause, during which Anne had not dared to look up. “Not—not in that way. I do care a great deal for you as a friend. But I don’t love you, Gilbert.” “But can’t you give me
“There is something I want to say to you.” “Oh, don’t say it,” cried Anne, pleadingly. “Don’t—please, Gilbert.” “I must. Things can’t go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I—I can’t tell you how much. Will you promise me that some day you’ll be my wife?” “I—I can’t,” said Anne miserably. “Oh, Gilbert—you—you’ve spoiled everything.” “Don’t you care for me at all?” Gilbert asked after a very dreadful pause, during which Anne had not dared to look up. “Not—not in that way. I do care a great deal for you as a friend. But I don’t love you, Gilbert.” “But can’t you give me some hope that you will—yet?” “No, I can’t,” exclaimed Anne desperately. “I never, never can love you—in that way—Gilbert. You must never speak of this to me again.” There was another pause—so long and so dreadful that Anne was driven at last to look up. Gilbert’s face was white to the lips. And his eyes—but Anne shuddered and looked away. There was nothing romantic about this. Must proposals be either grotesque or—horrible? Could she ever forget Gilbert’s face? “Is there anybody else?” he asked at last in a low voice. “No—no,” said Anne eagerly. “I don’t care for any one like that—and I like you better than anybody else in the world, Gilbert. And we must—we must go on being friends, Gilbert.” Gilbert gave a bitter little laugh. “Friends! Your friendship can’t satisfy me, Anne. I want your love—and you tell me I can never have that.” “I’m sorry. Forgive me, Gilbert,” was all Anne could s...
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Can we just appreciate how WELL this scene was written. Especially for a classic. Typically classic romances are so cheesy and overly romantic. But this feels totally real—like this conversation could have actually happened between two people. It’s amazing.
