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It was the art of Stevens to
say little except by suggestives. A single word, or brief sentence,
from his lips, judiciously applied to her sentiments or situation,
readily excited her to speech; and this utterance necessarily brought
with it the secret of her soul, the desire of her heart, nay, the
very shape of the delusion which possessed it. The wily libertine,
deliberate as the demon to which we have likened him, could provoke
the warmth which he did not share--could stimulate the eloquence
which he would not feel--could coldly, like some Mephistopheles
of science, subject the golden-winged bird or butterfly to the
torturous process of examination, with a pin thrust through its
vitals, and gravely dilate on its properties, its rich plumage, and
elaborate finish of detail, without giving heed to those writhings
which declared its agonies. It is not meant to be understood that
Stevens found no pleasure himself in the display of that wild,
unschooled imagination which was the prevailing quality in the mind
of Margaret Cooper. He was a man of education and taste.


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