“And I, who laughed and shouted defiance to society in following my wild tastes,—I, who so desperately resisted the growing and surrounding influence of your will, how I permitted it to close upon me at last.” “You did _not_ permit it: you had no choice of permitting. You could not help it, love; _that_ makes you my own, and my own for ever, Hagar!” “Yes, but are you _mine_! as surely, oh! Raymond?” “I love you, Hagar.” “You love me—you say so—will you tell, then, since this is an hour of tender reminiscences, of confidences, and explanation—will you tell me why, since you love me, you torture me so much; tell me why, when loving me, you make me suffer so much, and I will forgive it—indeed, I _have_ forgiven it—could not help forgiving it!” “You have nothing to forgive, love, and you must not use the word in reference to me. Yes, I will tell you, Hagar, for just now I am loving you very much, my own especial Hagar, and perhaps I may never be in a mood to tell you again. Listen, then: I believe I am naturally, or rather apparently, very gentle and tender, am I not?” “Yes, very; but—” “At least! I have very keen and sensitive nerves, delicate features, fair complexion, and all that go to make up the idea of softness and sensibility?” “Yes.” “That I got from my mother.” “Your mother! Ah! you never mentioned her to me before!” “And shall never mention her again—hush! let us resume—I _have_ sensibility, sensitiveness—_but!_ away down in the deeps of my soul have a perverse spirit of great strength, power, and malice—where it came from I do not know; how it got there I do not know—but, Hagar, you are rather apt to arouse it—this spirit aroused, oppresses, seeks to subdue even those I love, when they resist me—this spirit in its awakened strength takes pleasure in its calm force of resistance, of overbearing and bearing down opposition, and the stronger and fiercer the opposition the greater the pleasure of the victory. It was that spirit that incited me last night, but it is not always in the ascendant—there, Hagar! that is the secret of the attraction your strong, fierce, proud nature had for me! it gives me plenty of employment, life, you see. Yet, Hagar, I love you.” While he spoke, Hagar’s face had changed—one might say she was transfigured before him! her countenance grew radiant in inspiration as an angel’s, and her voice was softer, sweeter than you ever heard it, as she said, “I am glad you told me, Raymond, it has saved me and you—it is well you have told me. That spirit! it is, as you say, a _perverse_ spirit, an _evil_ spirit, a spirit from hell; and I will give it no further employment, no further life, Raymond—no more food; I will not nurture it by pride or anger. It is a spirit of hate; I will meet it by a spirit of love; when it comes to war with me it shall find so little resistance, so little to do, that it shall fall into death from inactivity.”