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RUSHEDGE, A CONFESSIONAL.
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lightened. They flashed, open, large, dark, haughty, upon me: they said—'You have pained me: you have outraged me: you have deceived me.'

"She added words soon to looks.

"'I did respect—I did admire—I did like you,' she said: 'yes—as much as if you were my brother: and you—you want to make a speculation of me. You would immolate me to that mill—your Moloch!'

"I had the common sense to abstain from any word of excuse—any attempt at palliation: I stood to be scorned.

"Sold to the devil for the time being, I was certainly infatuated: when I did speak, what do you think I said?

"'Whatever my own feelings were, I was persuaded you loved me, Miss Keeldar.'

"Beautiful!—was it not? She sat quite confounded. 'Is it Robert Moore that speaks?' I heard her mutter. 'Is it a man—or something lower?'

"'Do you mean,' she asked aloud—'do you mean you thought I loved you as we love those we wish to marry?'

"It was my meaning; and I said so.

"'You conceived an idea obnoxious to a woman's feelings,' was her answer: 'you have announced it in a fashion revolting to a woman's soul. You insinuate that all the frank kindness I have shown you has been a complicated, a bold, and an immodest manœuvre to ensnare a husband: you imply that at last you come here out of pity to offer me your hand, because I have courted you. Let me say this:—