How divine was this creature, whose voice to him was that of a goddess!
Then he spoke out to her with a face a little turned from her. Would she
be his wife? But before she answered him, let her listen to him. They had
told him that an early death must probably be his fate. He did not himself
feel that it must be so. Sometimes he was ill, very ill; but often he was
well. If she would run the risk with him he Would endeavour to make her
such recompense as might come from his wealth. The speech he made was
somewhat long, and as he made it he hardly looked into her face.
But it was necessary to him that he should be made to know by some signal
from her how it was going with her feelings. As he spoke of his danger,
there came a gurgling little trill of wailing from her throat, a soft,
almost musical, sound of woe, which seemed to add an unaccustomed
eloquence to his words. When he spoke of his own hope the sound was
somewhat, changed, but it was still continued. When he alluded to the
disposition of his fortune, she was at his feet. "Not that," she said,
"not that!" He lifted her, and with his arm round her waist he tried to
tell her what it would be his duty to do for her.
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