“Do not catechise me, Lionel; I will do my duty by her, be assured. Love! I must steel my heart against that ; expel it from its tower of strength, barricade it out: the fountain of love must cease to play, its waters be dried up, and all passionate thoughts attendant on it die⁠—that is to say, the love which would rule me, not that which I rule. Idris is a gentle, pretty, sweet little girl; it is impossible not to have an affection for her, and I have a very sincere one; only do not speak of love⁠—love, the tyrant and the tyrant-queller; love, until now my conqueror, now my slave; the hungry fire, the untameable beast, the fanged snake⁠—no⁠—no⁠—I will have nothing to do with that love. Tell me, Lionel, do you consent that I should marry this young lady?”

He bent his keen eyes upon me, and my uncontrollable heart swelled in my bosom. I replied in a calm voice⁠—but how far from calm was the thought imaged by my still words⁠—“Never! I can never consent that Lady Idris should be united to one who does not love her.”

“Because you love her yourself.”