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h relieved, but she did not speak at once. Her eyes wandered away from him, and following her gaze he saw them reach and rest upon Mr. Thauret. A jealous pang darted through his heart. He was about to speak when she turned to him and said with suppressed emotion: "I hope you will not be angry with me, and that you will not think evil of me. There is something I cannot explain, yet which, if I could, you would not object to. But until I can tell you about it--I cannot--I cannot--give you an answer. Would you--would you be willing to wait?" There was a tone of entreaty in her voice. "How long?" asked Mr. Randolph, still irritated, and wondering if the something which she could not tell was in any way connected with Mr. Thauret. "Would you mind--if I asked you to wait till--well, say the New Year?" "That is a long time, but if it is your will, I must." "Oh, thank you!" That was all she said; but there was a hint of rapture in her speech, there were tears in her eyes, and for one brief ecstatic moment he thought that there was love in her heart, and that that love was for him. With an impulse that he could not control, and which she did not check, he drew her to him, and softly touched her lips with his own. He felt satisfied, though she left him immediately and went at once to Mr. Thauret, who greeted her with evident warmth. There is something, magnetism if you please, but a something that binds two true lovers' hearts so that an impulse in the one excites an answering sensation in the other. The oddest fact in this connection is, that though one may fancy himself deeply in love, he is not, till he has received one of these instantaneous messages which Cupid ticks over Love's telegraph. After that he is enslaved. His better judgment is gone. He will argue in the lonely hours of the night that he has made a mistake, that the woman is not destined to make him happy, that she has this, that, or the other fault, but it counts for nothing, save that he suffers. That one stab has slain his manhood, and he cannot control his actions. As soon as he meets the woman again, act as she may, his love is aflame once more. She may ill-treat him, she may ignore him, it matters not; she attracts him. Thus it was with poor Mr. Randolph. Throughout the many weeks that followed he suffered much. He called his love all the unpleasant things that jealousy could suggest. But invariably the recollection of that one moment, when she ha
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