fleeting glimpse had shown her, beautiful, not with the
blossomy prettiness that passes away with the spring sunshine, but with
a rich vitality of which noble outlines and winning expression were only
the natural accidents. And that singular impression which the sight of
him had produced upon her,--how strange! How could she but have listened
to him,--to him, who was, as it were, a second creator to her, for he
had brought her back from the gates of the unseen realm,--if he had
recalled to her the dread moments they had passed in each other's arms,
with death, not love, in all their thoughts. And if then he had told her
how her image had remained with him, how it had colored all his visions,
and mingled with all his conceptions, would not those dark eyes have
melted as they were turned upon him? Nay, how could he keep the thought
away, that she would not have been insensible to his passion, if he
could have suffered its flame to kindle in his heart? Did it not seem as
if Death had spared them for Love, and that Love should lead them
together through life's long journey to the gates of Death?

Never! never! never! Their fates were fixed. For him, poor insect as he
was, a solitary flight by day, and a return at evening to his wingless
mate! For her--he thought he saw her doom.

Could he give her up to the cold embraces of that passionless egotist,
who, as he perceived plainly enough, was casting his shining net all
around her? Clement read Murray Bradshaw correctly. He could not perhaps
have spread his character out in set words, as we must do for him, for
it takes a long apprenticeship to learn to describe analytically what we
know as soon as we see it; but he felt in his inner consciousness all
that we must tell for him. Fascinating, agreeable, artful, knowing,
capable of winning a woman infinitely above himself, incapable of
understanding her,--O, if he could but touch him with the angel's spear,
and bid him take his true shape before her whom he was gradually
enveloping in the silken meshes of his subtle web! He would make a place
for her in the world,--O yes, doubtless. He would be proud of her in
company, would dress her handsomely, and show her off in the best
lights. But from the very hour that he felt his power over her firmly
established, he would begin to remodel her after his own worldly
pattern. He would dismantle her of her womanly ideals, and give her in
their place his table of market-values. He would teac