Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 135: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURD. and again to his breast. Those lips gave back the kiss—long, delicious, and voluptuously tender : those cheeks burnt and glowed beneath the other kisses which he imprinted on them; and as her full bosom heaved against his chest, he could feel the wild quick palpitations of her heart. * Yes, Emily,” he murmured. “I love you— and you only!” es A long deep-drawn sigh of pleasure was the only response which the beautiful quadroon could give to this assurance ; for her heart was too full of ecstatic emotions to enable her lips to frame a single syllable. For some minutes Gustavus thus retained her in his arms, until he suddenly perceived some object moving amongst the trees at a little distance: and then he relaxed his hold upon her. She at once seemed to be recalled to her own self-possession; and completely disen- gaging herself from his embrace, she bent upon him a look that was full of the deepest, most im- passioned love—while her cheeks were still glow- ing with blushes, and her bosom was still heaving with the emotions that swelled within it. He said nothing of having seen any one amongst the trees: he did not choose to alarm or shock her by the intelligence that she had possibly been observed when clasped in his arms. Indeed, he himself speedily forgot the incident in the enthusiasm with which he renewed the out- pourings of his love, They walked on together— she now leaning upon his arm, and drinking in all the fond things to which in his youthful rapture he was giving utterance. At length he exclaimed, as if suddenly seized with perplexity and bewil- derment, “But can it be possible that so much happiness is a reality P—or is it alla dream? Tell me, Emily—do you really love me?” “ Yes, I love you, Gustavus,” she answered, in the golden melody of her voice: then suddenly raising her countenance, which had hitherto been asain cast down, she displayed it, all glowing with the animation of joy, and love, and fondness, to the view of her companion. ‘“ Why should IL deal in any ridiculous affectations with you, after the avowal which has come from your lips? No —TI will not. I will frankly and candidly reveal all I have felt. The very first moment I beheld you, it was not with indifference, I listened to the story of your shipwreck; and I was inspired with an enthusiastic admiration for all that you had done on that awful, that memorable occasion. Days passed on—and I delighted to be your com- panion. Your lofty and noble behaviour in re- spect to the dead miser’s gold enhanced the admi- ration I already experienced for your character. But it was not until within the hour that is now passing, that I comprehended the real state of my feelings. When however you spoke of departure and of your cousin—Oh! then But enough, Gustavus! I love you—yes, I love you—I teel that I could not live without you!” “And I, dearest Emily,” responded the enrap- tured youth, ‘‘could not live without you! Oh, our separation shall not be long!—not one mo- ment longer than I can possibly help !” “Separation?” ejaculated the quadroun, sud- denly flinging a look of wild dismay upon her lover. ‘ You will not leave me, Gustavus!’ “Oh! believe me, Emily,” he cried, “it will go weeks! But 1 must return to England before L dare hope for the crowning of my happiness, I have duties to perform—sacred and solemn duties —and these must be accomplished, even thought instead of a mere sacrifice of feelings it were the sacrifice of life itself!” “Oh, no!” she wildly and passionately ex- claimed, “you must not leave me! Consider tho perils of that frightful ocean from whieh you have once so providentially escaped: it were mad- ness, it were wickedness to dare them again! No, no—it must not be! There is no sacrifice that I would not make for you—nothing you could ask of me that I would not perform!—and I have a right to expect the same at your hands!” “Good heavens, Hmily!” exelaimed Gustavus, infinitely distressed ; “ would you have me aban- don my aged grandsiro—my cousin who may be steeped in poverty ” ‘“No—I would not have you abandon them,” interjected Emily : “heaven forbid! But by means of correspondence and of trustworthy per- sons, you can effect on their behalf all that you deem requisite to do and all that your present wealth enables you to accomplish.” ‘And incur the risk of being taxed with the blackest ingratitude towards those who love me!” exclaimed the noble-minded youth; “ to be ac- cused of having lost all love for the relations who are dear to me, and to whom I know that I also am most dear! Omily! You would not ask me fo do all this? You know that I shall hasten to return to you! My God, Emily! can you doubt it when I declare that you are dearer to me than life itself? But love—even the fondesk and the most devoted—has its duties to perform, and must make its sacrifices—and this is now our case |” The beautiful quadroon gave no response : she reflected profoundly, and also with a deep melan- choly. Gustavus watched her countenance with the utmost anxiety : it was a gloriously handsome countenance; and it went to his very soul to be compelled to say or do aught that could inflict pain upon the possessor of such a face,—infinite pain to use language or resolve upon any step that might cause that bosom to swell with any emotions that were not akin to happiness. But the sense of duty was strong in the young man’s mind; and he was resolved to perform it. Pas- sionately and devotedly though he loved Emily Pinnock, yet was he determined to do violence to his feelings rather than appear deficient in affec- tion towards the grandsire who had known so many years. of suffering, and the cousin whose sweetness of disposition, whose amiability, and whose sisterly love he remembered so well. “If it be necessary that you should undertake this voyage,” said Emily, at length breaking silence, “itis not for me to dissuade you from it. I know that you love me, Gustavus—I judge of your feelings by mine own. I have every faith in your constancy—your fidelity—your honour. I ought rather to admire you for che magnanimity which temporarily savrifices the heart’s feelings to a sense of duty, than seem even for a single in- stant to upbraid or reproach you, Go then, Gus- tavus!—and when you return, you will find your own Kimily prepared to receive you with the most tomy heart to bid you tareweit even tor a few | enthusiastic joy!” ee ae Comiclooolks