His eyes were fixed on her, with an eagerness and an anguish
in their expression the most absorbing and intense.
"I have loved thee. Ay, if it be love to live whole nights on the memory
of a glance,--on a smile,--on the indelible impress of thy form.
Here,--here! But no living thing that I have loved;--no being that e'er
looked on me with kindliness and favour, that has not been marked out
for destruction. Oh, that those eyes had ne'er looked upon me! Thou wert
happy, and I have lingered on thy footstep till I have dragged thee to
the same gulph where all hope--all joy that e'er stole in upon my dark
path, must perish."
"Oh! do not foretaste thy misery thus," cried Constance. "The cruel
sufferings thou hast undergone make thee apprehensive of evil. But how
can _thy_ fate control my destiny?"
"How, I know not," said Tyrone, "save that it shall bring the same
clouds, in unmitigated darkness, about thy path. Dost thou love me? Nay,
start not. Stay not!" cried he, making way for the maiden to pass. But
Constance seemed unable to move,--terrified and speechless.
"Perchance, thou knowest it not, but thou wouldest love me as a woman
loves;--ay, beyond even the verge and extremity of hope! Even now the
poison rankles in thy bosom.
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