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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"Thaddeus of Warsaw"

You
see that I am a poor man. Besides, your character--"
"Talk not of my character!" cried she: "I will have none that does
not depend on you! Cruel Constantine! you will not understand me. I
want no riches, no friends, but yourself. Give me _your_ home
and _your_ arms," added she, throwing herself in an agony on his
bosom, "and beggary would be paradise! But I shall not bring you
poverty; I have inherited a fortune since I married Ross, on which he
has no claim."
Thaddeus now shrunk doubly from her. Why had she not felt a sacred
spell in that husband's name? He shuddered, and tore himself from her
clinging arms. Holding her off with his hand, he exclaimed, in a
voice of mental agony, "Infatuated woman! leave me, for his honor and
your own peace."
"No, no!" cried she, hoping she had gained some advantage over his
agitated feelings, and again casting herself at his feet, exclaimed,
"Never will I leave this spot till you consent that your home shall
be my home; that I shall serve you forever!"
Thaddeus pressed his hands upon his eyes, as if he would shut her
from his sight. But with streaming tears she added, while clasping
his other hand to her throbbing bosom, "Exclude me not from those
dear eyes! reject me not from being your true wife, your willing
slave!"
Thaddeus heard this, but he did not look on her, neither did he
answer.


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