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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"Thaddeus of Warsaw"

Pembroke was thanked for his zeal, but it was not
by words; they are too weak vehicles to convey strong impressions.
Thaddeus pressed his hand, and accompanied the action with a look
which spoke volumes. The withered heart of Pembroke expanded under
the animated gratitude of his friend. Receiving the letter, he sprang
into his seat, and, until he lost sight of Harrowby Hill, forgot how
soon he must appear to that friend the most ungrateful of men.
It was near six in the evening before Mr. Somerset left his curricle
at the little inn which skirts the village of Harthorpe. He affected
to make some inquiries respecting the families in the neighborhood;
and his host informed him that the ladies of the earl's family were
great walkers, passing almost the whole of the day in the grounds.
The measures to be adopted were now obvious. The paling belonging to
Lord Tinemouth's park was only a few yards distant; but fearful of
being observed, Pembroke sought a more obscure part. Scaling a wall
which was covered by the branches of high trees, he found his way to
the house through an almost impassable thicket.
He watched nearly an hour in vain for the appearance of Lady Albina,
whose youth and elegance, he thought, would unequivocally distinguish
her from the rest of the earl's household. Despairing of success, he
was preparing to change his station, when he heard a sound among the
dry leaves, and the next moment a beautiful young creature passed the
bush behind which he was concealed.


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