“I’ve made a slave,” she said to herself, forgetting for a moment the cost, “and he’ll do everything I bid him.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” she said, playfully. “You do not suppose I believe what you say.”
“What!” he cried, in a low, excited whisper, “not believe me. Here, tell me anything else to do. Why, I’d kill anyone if you’ll look at me like that.”
“I do not want you to kill anyone, and do not want you even to look or speak to me again if you are so rude as that. You forget that I am a lady.”
“No, I don’t,” he cried, as he feasted on her with his eyes. “You’re lovely. I never saw a girl so beautiful as you are before.”
He tried to catch her in his embrace again, but she waved him off.
“There,” she said coldly, “that will do. I see I must ask someone else to do what I want.”
“No, no, don’t,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you cross. I didn’t want to offend you, but when you looked at me like you did, with your shiny eyes, I couldn’t help myself. I was obliged.”
“Silence! How dare you,” she cried indignantly, as, with her heart throbbing with delight, she felt how very strong a hold she was getting upon Caleb’s will. “You forget yourself, sir.”
“No, I don’t; its only because—because—you’re so handsome. There, be cross with me if you like. I couldn’t help it.”