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"You know my motive well enough," answered Jonathan. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot.
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