Every curve of her bosom heaved and
swayed mysteriously. It seemed such a pity to let articulate words
disturb that reverie. Still, if Alan wished it. For a woman is a
woman, let Girton do its worst; and Herminia not less but rather
more than the rest of them.
Then Alan began. With her hand clasped in his, and fondling it
while he spoke, he urged all he could urge to turn her from her
purpose. He pointed out to her how unwise, how irretrievable her
position would be, if she once assumed it. On such a road as that
there is no turning back. The die once cast, she must forever
abide by it. He used all arts to persuade and dissuade; all
eloquence to save her from herself and her salvation. If he loved
her less, he said with truth, he might have spoken less earnestly.
It was for her own sake he spoke, because he so loved her. He
waxed hot in his eager desire to prevent her from taking this fatal
step. He drew his breath hard, and paused. Emotion and anxiety
overcame him visibly.
But as for Herminia, though she listened with affection and with a
faint thrill of pleasure to much that he said, seeing how deeply he
loved her, she leaned back from time to time, half weary with his
eagerness, and his consequent iteration.
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