Oh yes! fear not you will be my superior, dear; for in me honesty
has to struggle against the habits of my art and life. Be simple and
sincere, and I shall love you, and bless the hour you shone upon my cold,
artificial life. Ah, Ernest!" said she, fixing on his eye her own, the
fire of which melted into tenderness as she spoke, "be my friend. Come
between me and the temptations of an unprotected life--the recklessness
of a vacant heart."
He threw himself at her feet. He called her an angel. He told her he was
unworthy of her, but that he would try and deserve her. Then he
hesitated, and trembling he said:
"I will be frank and loyal. Had I not better tell you everything? You
will not hate me for a confession I make myself?"
"I shall like you better--oh! so much better!"
"Then I will own to you--"
"Oh, do not tell me you have ever loved before me! I could not bear to
hear it!" cried this inconsistent personage.
The other weak creature needed no more.
"I see plainly I never loved but you," said he.
"Let me hear that only!" cried she; "I am jealous even of the past. Say
you never loved but me. Never mind whether it is true. My child, you do
not even yet know love. Ernest, shall I make you love--as none of your
sex ever loved--with heart, and brain, and breath, and life, and soul?"
With these rapturous words, she poured the soul of love into his eyes; he
forgot everything in the world but her; he dissolved in present happiness
and vowed himself hers forever.
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