"Come," said he, in a sportive
voice; "don't be tragical. I never meant to reproach you, Mary. I
dare say if you gave your heart, it was only in return for his. I
know you are a grateful girl; and I verily believe you won't find
much difference between my friend the young Count Sobieski and the
forlorn Constantine."
A suspicion of the truth flashed across Miss Beaufort's mind. Unable
to speak, she caught hold of her cousin's hands, and looking eagerly
in his face, her eyes declared the question she would have asked.
Pembroke laughed triumphantly. A servant entering to tell him that
Sir Robert was ready, he strained her to his breast and exclaimed,
"Now I am revenged! Farewell! I leave you to all the pangs of doubt
and curiosity!" He then flew out of the room with an arch glance at
her agitated countenance, and hurried up stairs.
She clasped her trembling hands together as the door closed on him.
"O, gracious Providence!" cried she, "what am I to understand by this
mystery, this joy of my cousin's? Can it be possible that the
illustrious Sobieski and my contemned Constantine are the same
person?" A burning blush overspread her face at the expression
_my_ which had escaped her lips.
Whilst the graces, the sweetness, the dignity of Thaddeus had
captivated her notice, his sufferings, his virtues, and the
mysterious interests which involved his history, in like manner had
fixed her attention had awakened her esteem.
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