, we should grow cold and
weary; when our passions should turn to indifference, to disappointment
and heart-burnings, and end, perhaps, in our cherishing feelings of
vindictive spite and bitterness against each other, and in my thinking
every woman pleasanter and fairer than you, end in your believing me to
be the greatest brute under heaven!"

"Oh!" utters Virginia, as she raises her eyes to his face with a look of
pained wonder.

"I have seen it a thousand times," he continues vehemently. "I have
known men passionately, madly in love with women, ready to count 'the
world well lost,' to sacrifice all the future only to call that idol of
the moment theirs. I have seen them marry. I have watched the weariness
that comes from security even more than from satiety. I have seen the
links that were forged in roses become gyves of iron--tenderness and
courtesy give place to rudeness and contempt. I never saw but two people
perfectly happy, and they," lowering his voice, "were not married. I
have sworn a thousand times never to court wretchedness for myself and a
woman I loved by loading her and myself with chains. My idea has been
this. Some day I may meet with a being who, under natural circumstances,
she keeping her freedom and leaving me mine, I might love with all my
heart and be faithful to until the day of my death. I would give her all
I possessed. I would devote myself to making her happy; if she had to
sacrifice anything for my sake, I would atone to her for it by my
unwearying love. But," his voice mastered by emotion, "how dare I say
such words to you? In the sphere in which you live they would be
considered a dastardly insult--one must not dare to move one step from
the beaten track of custom. The world would scoff at the idea that my
love for you is more sacred and reverent than that of a man who,
inspired by a momentary passion for a woman and desiring her, obtains
his end by a simple and speedy means, without reflection as to the
possible misery of both in the future. And yet," his lips quivering, his
face growing deathly white, "I believe I could love you more dearly,
love you longer than husband ever loved wife."

Virginia sits rooted to the spot, a deadly anguish strangling her
heart. Then, whilst the divine strains of music still flow on, she feels
herself drawn to his heart; his lips meet hers in one long kiss that
steals her very soul away from her. He is gone--the music has
ceased--the night grows chil