She drew a deep, unsteady breath; her eyes began to brighten through their tears; he held her close to his breast, and pressed his lips, quivering with an ecstasy of love, upon her forehead.
"You will stay—you will stay!"
She released herself gently from his arms, her eyes were flooded with tenderness, her cheeks lighted up with a glow of joyous shame. With that graceful homage which comes so naturally to the heart of a loving woman, she took his hand and pressed it to her lips, and stood drooping beneath the overflow of tenderness that filled her heart, as a flower bends on its stock when loaded with honey-dew.
But this beautiful submission did not satisfy him; he encircled her again with his arm.
"Tell me in words, dearest—tell me in words, consenting words, or I shall gather them from your lips."
Blushing and agitated, she attempted to withdraw from his arms, but softly as a bird moves in its nest.
"Speak, Isabel—speak, and promise me!"
Her eyes were filled with tears, and her face burned with blushes; where was her pride, where all her haughty resolutions now? Her lips trembled apart, and the words he coveted were forming upon them—but that instant the door opened, and Mrs. Farnham looked through, regarding them with a cold sneer.
Isabel started as if a viper had stung her, tore herself from
Farnham's arms, and fled.