I love you in the vision of domestic settlement, in the
companionship of thought, in the partition of my ambition, in my
instinct for cultivation. I love you, too, with the ardor of a lover,
stronger than all, because I must possess you to possess myself; because
you kindle flame in me, and my humanity of pity is trampled down by my
humanity of desire; I cannot hear your appeal to escape! I am deaf to
sentiments of honor and courtesy, if they let you slip me! Give yourself
to me, and these better angels may prevail, being perhaps accessory to
the mighty instinct I obey at the command of the Creator!"
As he proceeded, Vesta saw shine in Meshach Milburn's face the very
ecstacy of love. His dark, resinous eyes were like forest 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.
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