my passion blinds me
to all else, because I would use every moment in pouring out my heart
to you, because my feelings must have outlet in words, because it is
more than life or death to me that you should know I love you!--God,
how fast that clock goes!"

She had stood in wonderment, under the spell of his vehemence. Now, as
he leaned towards her, over the chair-back, his breath coming rapidly,
his eyes luminous, she seemed for a moment abashed, softened, subdued.
But she put to flight his momentary hope by starting again for the
doorway, with a low-spoken, "I must go!"

But he thrust his chair in her way.

"Nay, don't go!" he said. "You may hear my avowal with propriety. My
people are as good as any in Virginia."

She stood regarding him with a look of scrutiny.

"You are a rebel against your king," she said, but not harshly.

"Is not the King soon to have his revenge? And is that a reason why
you should leave me now?"

"You deserted your first colors."

"'Twas in extraordinary circumstances, and in the right cause. And is
that a reason why you--"

"You took my horse."

"But paid you for it, and you have your horse again. Abuse me, madam,
but do not go from me. Call me rebel, deserter, robber, what you will,
but remain with me. Denunciation from your lips is sweeter than praise
from others. Chastise me, strike me, trample on me,--I shall worship
you none the less!"

He inclined his body further forward over the chair-back, and thus was
very near her. She put out her hand to repel him. He moved back with
humility, but took her hand and kissed it, with an appearance of
passion qualified by reverence.

"How dare you touch my hand?" And she quickly drew it from him.

"A poor wretch who loves, and is soon to die, dares much!"

"You seem resigned to dying," she remarked.

"Have I not said 'tis better than living with a hopeless passion?"

"And yet death," she said, "_that_ kind of a death is not pleasant."

"I'm not afraid of it," said he, wondering how the minutes were
running, yet not daring the loss of time to look. "'Tis not in
consigning me to the enemy that you have your revenge on me, 'tis in
making me vainly love you. I receive the greater hurt from your
beauty, not from the British provost-marshal!"

"Bravado!" said she.

"Time will show," said he.

"If you are so strong a man that you can endure the one hurt so
calmly, why are you not a little stronger,--strong enough to ignore
this othe