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Pauline’s Passion and Punishment
by
“I know your wish; it is as just as your silence is generous, and I reply to it in all sincerity. You would ask, ‘When I have given all that I possess, what do I receive in return?’ This–a wife whose friendship is as warm as many a woman’s love; a wife who will give you all the heart still left her, and cherish the hope that time may bring a harvest of real affection to repay you for the faithfulness of years; who, though she takes the retribution of a wrong into her hands and executes it in the face of heaven, never will forget the honorable name you give into her keeping or blemish it by any act of hers. I can promise no more. Will this content you, Manuel?”
Before she ended his face was hidden in his hands, and tears streamed through them as he listened, for like a true child of the south each emotion found free vent and spent itself as swiftly as it rose. The reaction was more than he could bear, for in a moment his life was changed, months of hopeless longing were banished with a word, a blissful yes canceled the hard no that had been accepted as inexorable, and Happiness, lifting her full cup to his lips, bade him drink. A moment he yielded to the natural relief, then dashed his tears away and threw himself at Pauline’s feet in that attitude fit only for a race as graceful as impassioned.
“Forgive me! Take all I have–fortune, name, and my poor self; use us as you will, we are proud and happy to be spent for you! No service will be too hard, no trial too long if in the end you learn to love me with one tithe of the affection I have made my life. Do you mean it? Am I to go with you? To be near you always, to call you wife, and know we are each other’s until death? What have I ever done to earn a fate like this?”
Fast and fervently he spoke, and very winsome was the glad abandonment of this young lover, half boy, half man, possessing the simplicity of the one, the fervor of the other. Pauline looked and listened with a soothing sense of consolation in the knowledge that this loyal heart was all her own, a sweet foretaste of the devotion which henceforth was to shelter her from poverty, neglect, and wrong, and turn life’s sunniest side to one who had so long seen only its most bleak and barren. Still at her feet, his arms about her waist, his face flushed and proud, lifted to hers, Manuel saw the cold mask soften, the stern eyes melt with a sudden dew as Pauline watched him, saying, “Dear Manuel, love me less; I am not worth such ardent and entire faith. Pause and reflect before you take this step. I will not bind you to my fate too soon lest you repent too late. We both stand alone in the world, free to make or mar our future as we will. I have chosen my lot. Recall all it may cost you to share it and be sure the price is not too high a one. Remember I am poor, you the possessor of one princely fortune, the sole heir to another.”
“The knowledge of this burdened me before; now I glory in it because I have the more for you.”
“Remember, I am older than yourself, and may early lose the beauty you love so well, leaving an old wife to burden your youth.”
“What are a few years to me? Women like you grow lovelier with age, and you shall have a strong young husband to lean on all your life.”
“Remember, I am not of your faith, and the priests will shut me out from your heaven.”
“Let them prate as they will. Where you go I will go; Santa Paula shall be my madonna!”