For a moment,
charmed with the loftiness of her discourse and the heroism of her soul,
he was half persuaded to relent, and abjure his diabolical purpose. It
was only by summoning up all the fierceness of his temper, all the
impatience of his passions, and all the mistaken haughtiness and
inflexibility of his purpose, that he could resist the artless
enchantment. During the internal struggle, his countenance by no means
answered to the simplicity of pastoral sentiments. It was now fierce,
and now unprotected and despairing. Anon it was pale with envy, and anon
it was flushed with the triumph of brutal passion. Transitions like
these could not pass unobserved. Imogen beheld them with anxiety and
astonishment, but suspicion was too foreign in her breast, to be thus
excited.
"Imogen," cried the traitor, "it is in your power to reward the noblest
acts of heroism that human courage can perform. Who in the midst of all
the exultation and applause that triumphant rectitude can inspire, could
look to a nobler prize than the condescension of your smiles and the
heaven of your embraces? No, too amiable shepherdess, it is not for
myself I fear; witness every action of my life; witness all those
dangers that I have this moment unhesitatingly encountered, that I might
fly to your arms.
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