“The authority of personal experience. I spent some years in Cashmere, attached to the corps of a surveying expedition. The women there are full of romantic notions. They live in a land that is poetry itself. They talk in poetry. They draw it in with every breath they take. Their idiosyncrasies are peculiar to themselves, for I never found the same characteristics in any other nation’s women. They are strangely impetuous, strong in their attachments, true to their promises. And the one theme which seems to be the burden of their lives is love.” “And a very pretty theme too,” Harper remarked. “When once they have placed their affections,” Martin went on, without seeming to notice the interruption, “they are true to the death. And if the object dies, it is seldom a Cashmere woman loves again. But when they do, the passion springs up, or rather, is instantly re-awakened. There are some people who affect to sneer at what is called ‘love at first sight.’ Well, I don’t pretend to understand much about the mysterious laws of affinity, but the women of Cashmere are highly-charged electrical machines. The latent power may lie dormant for a long time, until the proper contact is made--then there is a flash immediately; and, from that moment, their hearts thrill, and throb, and yearn for the being who has set the power in motion.” “But you don’t mean to say that I have aroused such a feeling in Haidee’s breast?” “I do mean to say so.” “Poor girl!” sighed Harper, “that is most unfortunate for her.” “She is worthy of your sympathy, as she is of your love.” “But you forget that I have a wife.” “No, I do not forget that. I mean, that if you were free, she is a worthy object.” “But even if I were single, I could not marry this woman.” “Could not; why not?” “What! marry a Cashmere woman?” “Yes; is there anything so _outré_ in that? You would not be the first Englishman who has done such a thing. Why, I have known Britishers mate with North American Indian women before now.” “True; but still the idea of Haidee being my wife is such a novel one that I cannot realise it.” “The heart is a riddle; and human affections are governed by no fixed laws.” “But really, Martin, we are discussing this matter to no purpose. If Haidee entertains any such passion as that you speak of, it is unfortunate.” “It is, indeed, unfortunate for her, because if her love is unreciprocated she will languish and die.” “What do you mean?” asked Harper sharply, and with a touch of indignation. “Surely you would not counsel me to be dishonourable to my wife?” “God forbid. You misjudge me if you think so. I speak pityingly of Haidee. It is no fault of yours if she has made you the star that must henceforth be her only light. What I have told you are facts, and you may live to prove them so!”