"evil as has been my life, will you not yet soothe the one, and guide the
other? My Emily! my love! the Heaven to the tumultuous ocean of my
heart--will you not be mine--mine only--wholly--and for ever?" She did
not answer--she did not turn from his embrace. Her cheek flushed as his
breath stole over it, and her bosom heaved beneath the arm which
encircled that empire so devoted to him. "Speak one word, only one
word," he continued to whisper: "will you not be mine? Are you not mine
at heart even at this moment?" Her head sank upon his bosom. Those deep
and eloquent eyes looked up to his through their dark lashes. "I will be
yours," she murmured: "I am at your mercy; I have no longer any
existence but in you. My only fear is, that I shall cease to be worthy
of your love!"

Falkland pressed his lips once more to her own: it was his only answer,
and the last seal to their compact. As they stood before the open
lattice, the still and unconscious moon looked down upon that record of
guilt. There was not a cloud in the heaven to dim her purity: the very
winds of night had hushed themselves to do her homage: all was silent but
their hearts. They stood beneath the calm and holy skies, a guilty and
devoted pair--a fearful contrast of the sin and turbulence of this
unquiet earth to the passionless serenity of the eternal heaven. The
same stars, that for thousands of unfathomed years had looked upon the
changes of this nether world, gleamed pale, and pure, and steadfast upon
their burning but transitory vow. In a few years what of the
condemnation or the recorders of that vow would remain? From other lips,
on that spot, other oaths might be plighted; new pledges of unchangeable
fidelity exchanged: and, year after year, in each succession of scene and
time, the same stars will look from the mystery of their untracked and
impenetrable home, to mock, as now, with their immutability, the
variations and shadows of mankind!