Let me have hope and favour, and I am a
forsworn man for your sake.'
Rosa puts her hands to her temples, and, pushing back her hair,
looks wildly and abhorrently at him, as though she were trying to
piece together what it is his deep purpose to present to her only
in fragments.
'Reckon up nothing at this moment, angel, but the sacrifices that I
lay at those dear feet, which I could fall down among the vilest
ashes and kiss, and put upon my head as a poor savage might. There
is my fidelity to my dear boy after death. Tread upon it!'
With an action of his hands, as though he cast down something
precious.
'There is the inexpiable offence against my adoration of you.
Spurn it!'
With a similar action.
'There are my labours in the cause of a just vengeance for six
toiling months. Crush them!'
With another repetition of the action.
'There is my past and my present wasted life. There is the
desolation of my heart and my soul. There is my peace; there is my
despair. Stamp them into the dust; so that you take me, were it
even mortally hating me!'
The frightful vehemence of the man, now reaching its full height,
so additionally terrifies her as to break the spell that has held
her to the spot. She swiftly moves towards the porch; but in an
instant he is at her side, and speaking in her ear.
'Rosa, I am self-repressed again. I am walking calmly beside you
to the house. I shall wait for some encouragement and hope. I
shall not strike too soon.
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