elf…denying　plans。　And　now　it　is　deluged　with　a　nectarous　flood—the　young　germs　swamped—delicious　poison　cankering　them：　now　I　see　myself　stretched　on　an　ottoman　in　the　drawing…room　at　Vale　Hall　at　my　bride　Rosamond　Oliver’s　feet：　she　is　talking　to　me　with　her　sweet　voice—gazing　down　on　me　with　those　eyes　your　skilful　hand　has　copied　so　well—smiling　at　me　with　these　coral　lips。　She　is　mine—I　am　hers—this　present　life　and　passing　world　suffice　to　me。　Hush！　say　nothing—my　heart　is　full　of　delight—my　senses　are　entranced—let　the　time　I　marked　pass　in　peace。”

I　humoured　him：　the　watch　ticked　on：　he　breathed　fast　and　low：　I　stood　silent。　Amidst　this　hush　the　quartet　sped；　he　replaced　the　watch；　laid　the　picture　down；　rose；　and　stood　on　the　hearth。

“Now；”　said　he；　“that　little　space　was　given　to　delirium　and　delusion。　I　rested　my　temples　on　the　breast　of　temptation；　and　put　my　neck　voluntarily　under　her　yoke　of　flowers。　I　tasted　her　cup。　The　pillow　was　burning：　there　is　an　asp　in　the　garland：　the　wine　has　a　bitter　taste：　her　promises　are　hollow—her　offers　false：　I　see　and　know　all　this。”

I　gazed　at　him　in　wonder。

“It　is　strange；”　pursued　he；　“that　while　I　love　Rosamond　Oliver　so　wildly—with　all　the　intensity；　indeed；　of　a　first　passion；　the　object　of　which　is　exquisitely　beautiful；　graceful；　fascinating—I　experience　at　the　same　time　a　calm；　unwarped　consciousness　that　she　would　not　make　me　a　good　wife；　that　she　is　not　the　partner　suited　to　me；　that　I　sho