orest ponds flashing
at night under the torches of negro 'coon-hunters. His long lady's hands
trembled as he stretched them towards her to clasp her, and she saw upon
his brow and in his open nostril and firm mouth the presence of a will
that seldom fails, when exerted mightily, to reduce a woman's, and make
her recognize her lord.

Yet, with this strong excitement of mental and animal love, which
generally animates man to eloquence, if not to beauty, a weary
something, nearly like pain, marked the bold intruder, and a quiver, not
like will and courage, went through his frame. It was this which touched
Vesta with the sense that perhaps she was not the only sufferer there,
and pity, which saves many a lover when his merits could not win,
brought the Judge's daughter to an impulsive determination.

"Mr. Milburn," she said at last, pressing her hands to her head, "this
day's trials have been too much for my brain. Never, in all my life
together, have I had realities like these to contend with. I am worn
out. Nay, sir, do not touch me now!" He had tried to repeat his
sympathetic overture, and pet her in his arms. "Let us end this conflict
at once. You say you will marry me; when?"

"It is yours to say when, Miss Custis. I am ready any day."

"And you will give me every note and obligation of my father, so that my
mother's portion shall be returned to her in full, and this house,
servants, and demesnes be mine in my own right?"

"Yes," said Milburn; "I have such confidence in your truth and virtue
that you shall keep these papers from this moment until the
marriage-day."

"It will not be long, then," Vesta said, looking at Milburn with a will
and authority fully equal to his own. "Will you take me to-night?"

"To-night?" he repeated. "Not to-night, surely?"

"To-night, or probably never."

He drew nearer, so as to look into her countenance by the strong
firelight. Calm courage, that would die, like Joan of Arc in the flames,
met his inquiry.

"Yes," said Milburn, "at your command I will take you to-night, though
it is a surprise to me."

He flinched a little, nevertheless, his conscience being uneasy, and the
same trembling Vesta had already observed went through his frame again.

"What will the world say to your marriage after a single day's
acquaintance with me?"

"Nothing," Vesta answered, "except that I am your wife. That will, at
least, silence advice and prevent intrusion. If I delay, these
forebodings