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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"Thaddeus of Warsaw"


"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed he, involuntarily starting back.
"Do not cast me off, Constantine!" cried she, clasping his arm, and
looking up to him with a face of anguish; "on you alone I now depend
for happiness--for existence!"
A cold damp stood on the forehead of her auditor.
"Dear Lady Sara, what am I to understand by this emotion; has
anything dreadful happened? Is Captain Ross--"
Lady Sara shuddered, and still grasping his hand, answered with words
every one of which palsied the heart of Thaddeus. "He is coming home.
He is now at Portsmouth. O, Constantine! I am not yet so debased as
to live with him when my heart is yours."
At this shameful declaration, Thaddeus clenched his teeth in agony of
spirit; and placing his hand upon his eyes, to shut her from his
sight, he turned suddenly round and walked towards another part of
the room.
Lady Sara followed him. Her cloak having fallen off, now displayed
her fine form in all the fervor of grief and distraction. She rung
her fair and jewelled arms in despair, and with accents rendered more
piercing by the anguish of her mind, exclaimed, "What! You hate me?
You throw me from you? Cruel, barbarous Constantine! Can you drive
from your feet the woman who adores you? Can you cast her who is
without a home into the streets?"
Thaddeus felt his hand wet with her tears. He fixed his eyes upon her
with almost delirious horror.


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