caresses that were prompted by love's unreasoning fury.
The whole earth revolved in one vast throb of song, and the wind, entuned, seemed to catch the music in its chase. Nothing under the sun could equal those moments with them.
At first they were so happy; then there came a desire—which comes to those of deep and tender sensibilities when their felicity becomes so acute that it verges upon pain—the desire, the involuntary longing, to die—an abandon of self—a forgetting.
In this moment of delirium he was the first to speak.
"I have known from the first that we were meant for each other."
She did not answer; she was so thoroughly intoxicated just then, that if he should have dared to give her blows her heart would have arraigned him at its bar, with weeping paid the costs, and swore the blow was kind—she loved him so.
"I say that we were meant for each other," he repeated. "Love like ours should be the first law of the universe, after love of God."
"I am thy neighbor's wife," she answered, slowly.
"I now admit no ties except the one that fate has made between your heart and mine."
