“Melmoth, as she spoke, was profoundly silent, and deeply attentive. He said at last, “Do you then resign yourself to me?”--“Alas! have I not?”--“A question is not an answer. Will you, renouncing all other engagements, all other hopes, depend on me solely for your extrication from this fearful emergency?”--“I will--I do!”--“Will you promise, that if I render you the service you require, if I employ the power you say I have alluded to, you will be _mine_?”--“_Yours!_--Alas! am I not yours already?”--“You embrace _my_ protection, then? You voluntarily seek the shelter of that power which I can promise? You yourself will me to employ that power in effecting your escape?--Speak--do I interpret your sentiments aright?--I am unable to exercise those powers you invest me with, unless you yourself require me to do so. I have waited--I have watched for the demand--it has been made--would that it never had!” An expression of the fiercest agony corrugated his stern features as he spoke.--“But it may yet be withdrawn--reflect!”--“And you will not then save me from shame and danger? Is this the proof of your love--is this the boast of your power?” said Isidora, half frantic at this delay. “If I adjure you to pause--if I myself hesitate and tremble--it is to give time for the salutary whisper of your better angel.”--“Oh! save me, and you shall be my angel!” said Isidora, falling at his feet. Melmoth shook through his whole frame as he heard these words. He raised and soothed her, however, with promises of safety, though in a voice that seemed to announce despair--and then turning from her, burst into a passionate soliloquy.--“Immortal Heaven! what is man?--A being with the ignorance, but not the instinct, of the feeblest animals!--They are like birds--when thy hand, O Thou whom I dare not call Father, is on them, they scream and quiver, though the gentle pressure is intended only to convey the wanderer back to his cage--while, to shun the light fear that scares their senses, they rush into the snare that is spread in their sight, and where their captivity is hopeless!” As he spoke, hastily traversing the room, his foot struck against a chair on which a gorgeous dress was spread. “What is this?” he exclaimed--“What ideot trumpery, what May-queen foolery is this?”--“It is the habit I am to wear at the feast to-night,” said Isidora--“My attendants are coming--I hear them at the door--oh, with what a throbbing heart I shall put on this glittering mockery!--But you will not desert me then?” she added, with wild and breathless anxiety. “Fear not,” said Melmoth, solemnly--“You have demanded my aid, and it shall be accorded. May your heart tremble no more when you throw off that habit, than now when you are about to put it on!”