"You have had more than enough," she smiled, putting a ripe grape between his gaping lips.
"Just as you say, sweet love! You know I am your slave. You do with me as you like," he answered stupidly.
"Now," said Faustina, her thoughts still running on the contrast between the storm without and the comfort within, "what in this world would tempt one to leave the house on such a night as this?
"Nothing in the world, sweet love!"
"Malcolm, I do not think I would go out to-night, even in a close carriage, for a thousand pounds."
"No, my angel, nor for ten thousand pounds should you go."
"I like to think of the people that are out in the cold, though. It doubles my enjoyment," she said, as she put another fine grape in his mouth.
"Yes, sweet love!" he answered drowsily, closing his fingers on her hand and drawing her forcibly towards him.
"Ah! stop!" she exclaimed, under her breath, and directing his attention to Mrs. MacDonald, who sat with her eyes closed in the easy-chair by the chimney corner.
"She is asleep," said the viscount, in a hoarse whisper.