"You will! You will! You
sweetest of angels, you will be mine!"
There was something so irresistibly winning in the sound, that it
drew forth an answer from the maiden's very heart. "Oh! yes, indeed--"
and before she could utter another word she was snatched into a sudden,
warm, vehement embrace, from which she was only partly released,
as--near, but still not so near as she would have expected--this
extraordinary suitor seemed to remonstrate with his ardent self, saying,
"Now! now! that will do! So be it then, my child," he continued.
"Great will be the need of faith, patience, trust, ay, and of self-
restraint, but let these be practised for a little space, and all will
be well."
She scarcely heard the latter words. The sense of something irrevocable
and unfathomable was overpowering her. The mystery of these sudden
alterations of voice, now near, now far off, was intolerable. Here
were hands claiming her, fervent, eager breathings close upon her,
and that serious, pensive voice going on all that time. The darkness
grew dreadful to her, dizziness came over her; she dashed aside the
hands, started up with a scream, and amid the strange noises and
flashes of a swoon, knew no more till she heard Mrs. Aylward's voice
over her, found the horrid smell of burnt feathers under her nose,
and water trickling down her face, dim candlelight was round her,
and she perceived that she was on a low settee in the lobby.
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