Page:The amorous intrigues and adventures of Aaron Burr.pdf/37

 waist, his lips had touched the sweetest and most beautiful bosom that ever fired the soul of man, when she suddenly became conscious of her awful position!

But Burr had expected this: he was on the watch for it; and he had also read in her gentle heart the fact that she was of a forgiving temper, and that nothing could induce her to peril the welfare of a handsome youth, whose only fault was that he loved her to well—for, alas! she knew not the cold, calculating brain which accompanied that fiery heart.

I say that she suddenly became aware of her danger, and started as if her guardian-angel had cried to her in thunder tones:

"Beware!"

In the very moment that she endeavored, with sudden consciousness, to spring from his embrace, and with a mighty effort had writhed from his grasp, Burr threw himself on her exposed breast, and caught the bright red nipple in his mouth. Here he seemed fastened as if for ever, and devoured the fragrance of that white bosom with as keen a relish as that of the Arabian traveler when he quaffs the waters from a well in the burning desert.

All the feminine fire and tenderness of Mrs. Keating at once returned, and though she still strove to free herself, yet she sighed heavily, and her struggles became weaker and weaker. She sank upon the carpet, and Burr threw aside the envious drapery that concealed charms which might have seduced a man of ice.

The cluster of raven threads which heavily covered the mount of Venus, contrasted beautifully with the white round belly and large alabaster thighs, while the two breasts stood up hard and firm, the lovely neck invited his eager lips, and the blue eyes rolled with wild desire and tender impatience.

We need not mention the sequel. Imagination can hardly paint their mutual bliss, which was intensified by respect and admiration.

No sooner had the first transports subsided—no sooner had they risen from the floor—than the heart of the gentle and loving widow was rent with the keenest remorse. Yet it was not on Burr that she launched her censures.

"It is myself," said she—"my guilty self, who am wholly to blame. I know that men are passionate, and cannot always control themselves. But I, who am older than you—I, who have had experience—Oh, sir, it is a fine monitor, a fine advisor that you have chosen! A fine example I have set a young and hopeful Christian! Now is my ruin sealed, for never more can I lift my guilty eyes to thy throne, oh my God! Let the mountains fall now—"

"Cease! cease! dear madam! Angel! blessed woman!" cried Burr. "Accuse not yourself! we have only been led away by our