I know I have not power of language, aptitude of illustration, nor depth of thought to hold a mental contention with you." "Flora, for what do I contend ?" "You, you speak of love." "And I have, ere this, spoken to you of love unchecked." "Yes, yes.

Before this." "And now, wherefore not now?
Do not tell me you are changed." "I am changed, Charles.

Fearfully changed.

The curse of God has fallen upon me, I know not why.

I know not that in word or in thought I have done evil, except perchance unwittingly, and yet--the vampyre." "Let not that affright you." "Affright me! It has killed me." "Nay, Flora,--you think too much of what I still hope to be susceptible of far more rational explanation." "By your own words, then, Charles, I must convict you.