It was mounted in so peculiar a fashion that
Rodolf started back with the first emotion of surprise. The miniature
was his own; a gem newly from the artist, and which he had left, as he
thought, in safe custody a short time ago. The voice again whispered in
his ear, "Beware."
He subdued the expression of wonder just rising on his lip, watching the
issue with increased interest.
Kate covered her face. She had just glanced at the picture, and her
proud bosom heaved almost to bursting.
"Look, disdainful woman! and though thy bosom be formed for love, yet
wouldest thou spurn it from thee. I _know_ thou lovest him. Nay, chide
not; thy brow cannot blast me with its thunders. Go to. I could, by mine
art, so humble thee, set thy love so exquisitely on its desire, that
thou shouldest lay thy proud womanhood aside--sue and crouch, even if
'twere for blows, like a tame spaniel! I have thee in my power, and were
not the natural bent of thy dispositions kind and noblehearted, yet sore
beset, and, as it were, overwhelmed by thy curst humours, I had now cast
my spells about thee--ay, stricken thee to the dust! Shake off these
bonds that enthral thy better spirit, and let not that beautiful fabric
play the hypocrite any longer.
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