There was a remote possibility that it was a
little less exquisite than those ravishing items, and that her
morbid fancy made her imagine it homely, compared with them, but
he knew he never would share in that opinion. It was the
reasoning of lover, rather, the logic; for when love glides
smiling in at the door, reason stalks gravely, not to say
sulkily, out of the window, and, standing afar off, eyes
disdainfully the didos and antics of her late tenement. There
was very little reason, therefore, in Ormiston's head and heart,
but a great deal of something sweeter, joy - joy that thrilled
and vibrated through every nerve within him. Leaning against the
portal, in an absurd delirium of delight - for it takes but a
trifle to jerk those lovers from the slimiest depths of the
Slough of Despond to the topmost peak of the mountain of ecstasy
- he uncovered his head that the night-air might cool its
feverish throbbings. But the night-air was as hot as his heart;
and, almost suffocated by the sultry closeness, he was about to
start for a plunge in the river, when the sound of coming
footsteps and voices arrested him. He had met with so many odd
ad ventures to-night that he stopped now to see who was coming;
for on every hand all was silent and forsaken,
Footsteps and voices came closer; two figures took shape in the
gloom, and emerged from the darkness into the glimmering lamp
light.
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