"Oh, why don't you speak, and fill up the measure of my degradation!" she went on passionately--"Why don't you tell _me_, as you tell my father, your purpose in coming here?--why don't you say to _me_, as you say to him, that your sovereign choice has fastened upon me,--that I am the woman out of all the world you have elected to marry! Look at me!" and she raised her arms with a tragic gesture; "Is there any flaw in the piece of goods you wish to purchase? This face is deemed worthy of the fashionable photographer's pains; worthy of being sold for a shilling as one of England's 'beauties,'--this figure has served as a model for the showing-off of many a modiste's costume, purchased at half-cost on the understanding that I must state to my circle of acquaintance the name of the maker or designer,--these eyes, these lips, these arms are all yours for the buying! Why do you expose me to the shame of dallying over your bargain?--by hesitating and considering as to whether, after all, I am worthy of your gold!" She seemed seized by some hysterical passion that convulsed her, and in mingled amazement, alarm and distress, I sprang to her and caught her hands in my own. "Sibyl, Sibyl!" I said--"Hush--hush! You are overwrought with fatigue and excitement,--you cannot know what you are saying. My darling, what do you take me for?--what is all this nonsense in your mind about buying and selling? You know I love you,--I have made no secret of it,--you must have seen it in my face,--and if I have hesitated to speak, it is because I feared your rejection of me. You are too good for me, Sibyl,--too good for any man,--I am not worthy to win your beauty and innocence. My love, my love--do not give way in this manner"--for as I spoke she clung to me like a wild bird suddenly caged--"What can I say to you, but that I worship you with all the strength of my life,--I love you so deeply that I am afraid to think of it; it is a passion I dare not dwell upon, Sibyl,--I love you too well,--too madly for my own peace----" I trembled, and was silent,--her soft arms clinging to me robbed me of a portion of my self-control. I kissed the rippling waves of her hair; she lifted her head and looked up at me, her eyes alit with some strange lustre that was not love as much as fear,--and the sight of her beauty thus yielded as it were to my possession, broke down the barriers of restraint I had hitherto imposed upon myself. I kissed her on the lips,--a long passionate kiss that, to my excited fancy, seemed to mingle our very beings into one,--but while I yet held her in my arms, she suddenly released herself and pushed me back. Standing apart from me she trembled so violently that I feared she would fail,--and I took her hand and made her sit down. She smiled,--a very wan smile. "What did you feel then?" she asked. "When, Sibyl?" "Just now,--when you kissed me?" "All the joys of heaven and fires of hell in a moment!" I said.