“Such was the impression that these words made on Melmoth, whose heart, however, plunged in unutterable crimes, had never been polluted by sensuality, that he started from the spot where he stood,--gazed on her for a moment,--and then exclaimed, “Well! you have given me proofs of love unquestionable! It remains for me to give you a proof of that love which I have described--of that love which only _you_ could inspire--of that love which, under happier circumstances, I might---- But no matter--it is not my business to analyse the feeling, but to give the proof.” He extended his arm toward the casement at which she stood.--“Would you then consent to unite your destiny with mine? Would you indeed be mine amid mystery and sorrow? Would you follow me from land to sea, and from sea to land,--a restless, homeless, devoted being,--with the brand on your brow, and the curse on your name? Would you indeed _be mine_?--my own--my only Immalee?”--“I would--I will!”--“Then,” answered Melmoth, “on this spot receive the proof of my eternal gratitude. On this spot I renounce your sight!--I disannul your engagement!--I fly from you for ever!” And as he spoke, he disappeared. CHAPTER XXII. I’ll not wed Paris,--Romeo is my husband. SHAKESPEARE. “Isidora was so accustomed to the wild exclamations and (to her) unintelligible allusions of her mysterious lover, that she felt no unwonted alarm at his singular language, and abrupt departure. There was nothing in either more menacing or formidable than she had often witnessed; and she recollected, that after these paroxysms, he often re-appeared in a mood comparatively tranquil. She felt sustained, therefore, by this reflection,--and perhaps by that mysterious conviction impressed on the hearts of those who love profoundly--that passion must always be united with suffering; and she seemed to hear, with a kind of melancholy submission to the fatality of love, that her lot was to suffer from lips that were sure to verify the oracle. The disappearance, therefore, of Melmoth, gave her less surprise than a summons from her mother a few hours after, which was delivered in these words: “Madonna Isidora, your lady-mother desires your presence in the tapestried chamber--having received intelligence by a certain express, which she deems fitting you should be acquainted withal.” “Isidora had been in some degree prepared for extraordinary intelligence by an extraordinary bustle in this grave and quiet household. She had heard steps passing, and voices resounding, but “She wist not what they were,”