“Do you mean this, Maurice Gerald? Do not trifle with me: I am not a child. Speak the truth! Do you mean it?”
“I do! As heaven is above me, I do!”
The sweetest kiss I ever had in my life, was when a woman—a fair creature, in the hunting field—leant over in her saddle and kissed me as I sate in mine.
The fondest embrace ever received by Maurice Gerald, was that given by Louise Poindexter; when, standing up in her stirrup, and laying her hand upon his shoulder, she cried in an agony of earnest passion—
“Do with me as thou wilt: I love you, I love you!”
Chapter Twenty Eight.
A Pleasure Forbidden.
Ever since Texas became the scene of an Anglo-Saxon immigration—I might go a century farther back and say, from the time of its colonisation by the descendants of the Conquistadores—the subject of primary importance has been the disposition of its aborigines.