Can you then wish, lovely Adeline, to fly from him who adores you? replied the Marquis with a studied air of tenderness. Why will you exact so severe a proof of my disinterestedness, a disinterestedness which is not consistent with love? No, charming Adeline! let me at least have the pleasure of beholding you till the bonds of the church shall remove every obstacle to my love. To-morrow---- Adeline saw the danger to which she was now exposed, and interrupted him. _Deserve_ my esteem, Sir, and then you will _obtain_ it: as a first step towards which, liberate me from a confinement that obliges me to look on you only with terror and aversion. How can I believe your professions of love, while you show that you have no interest in my happiness?--Thus did Adeline, to whom the arts and the practice of dissimulation were hitherto equally unknown, condescend to make use of them in disguising her indignation and contempt. But though these arts were adopted only for the purpose of self-preservation, she used them with reluctance, and almost with abhorrence; for her mind was habitually impregnated with the love of virtue, in thought, word, and action; and while her end in using them was certainly good, she scarcely thought that end could justify the means. The Marquis persisted in his sophistry. Can you doubt the reality of that love, which to obtain you has urged me to risk your displeasure? But have I not consulted your happiness, even in the very conduct which you condemn? I have removed you from a solitary and desolate ruin to a gay and splendid villa, where every luxury is at your command, and where every person shall be obedient to your wishes. My first wish is to go hence, said Adeline; I entreat, I conjure you, my Lord, no longer to detain me. I am a friendless and wretched orphan, exposed to many evils, and I fear abandoned to misfortune: I do not wish to be rude; but allow me to say, that no misery can exceed that I shall feel in remaining here, or indeed in being any where pursued by the offers you make me. Adeline had now forgot her policy: tears prevented her from proceeding, and she turned away her face to hide her emotion. By Heaven! Adeline, you do me wrong, said the Marquis, rising from his seat and seizing her hand; I love, I adore you; yet you doubt my passion, and are insensible to my vows. Every pleasure possible to be enjoyed within these walls you shall partake,--but beyond them you shall not go. She disengaged her hand, and in silent anguish walked to a distant part of the saloon: deep sighs burst from her heart, and almost fainting she leaned on a window-frame for support.