When one soul is grappling with another for life, such silence may last
an instant too long; and Kate soon felt her grasp slipping. Momentarily
the spell relaxed. Other thoughts swelled up, and Emilia's eyes began to
wander; delicious memories stole in, of walks through blossoming paths
with Malbone,--of lingering steps, half-stifled words and sentences left
unfinished;--then, alas! of passionate caresses,--other blossoming paths
that only showed the way to sin, but had never quite led her there, she
fancied. There was so much to tell, more than could ever be explained or
justified. Moment by moment, farther and farther strayed the wandering
thoughts, and when the poor child looked in Kate's face again, the mist
between them seemed to have grown wide and dense, as if neither eyes
nor words nor hands could ever meet again. When she spoke it was to say
something evasive and unimportant, and her voice was as one from the
grave.

In truth, Philip had given Emilia his heart to play with at Neuchatel,
that he might beguile her from an attachment they had all regretted. The
device succeeded. The toy once in her hand, the passionate girl had kept
it, had clung to him with all her might; he could not shake her off. Nor
was this the worst, for to his dismay he found himself responding to
her love with a self-abandonment of ardor for which all former loves had
been but a cool preparation. He had not intended this; it seemed hardly
his fault: his intentions had been good, or at least not bad. This
piquant and wonderful fruit of nature, this girlish soul, he had merely
touched it and it was his. Its mere fragrance was intoxicating. Good
God! what should he do with it?

No clear answer coming, he had drifted on with that terrible facility
for which years of self-indulged emotion had prepared him. Each step,
while it was intended to be the last, only made some other last step
needful.

He had begun wrong, for he had concealed his engagement, fancying that
he could secure a stronger influence over this young girl without the
knowledge. He had come to her simply as a friend of her Transatlantic
kindred; and she, who was always rather indifferent to them, asked no
questions, nor made the discovery till too late. Then, indeed, she
had burst upon him with an impetuous despair that had alarmed him.
He feared, not that she would do herself any violence, for she had
a childish dread of death, but that she would show some desperate
animosi