"Sweet Mary!" murmured he, "I shall behold thee once more; I shall
again revive under thy kind smile! Oh, it is happiness to know that I
owe my liberty to thee, though I may not dare to tell thee so! Yet my
swelling heart may cherish the clear consciousness, and, bereaved
though I am of all I formerly loved, be indeed blessed while on earth
with the heaven-bestowed privilege of loving thee, even in silence
and forever! Alas! alas! a man without kindred or a country dare not
even wish thee to be his!" A sigh from the depths of his soul closed
this soliloquy.
The sight of Pembroke riding through the field towards the little
inn, recalled the thoughts of Sobieski to that dear friend alone. He
went out to meet him. Mr. Somerset saw him, and putting his horse to
a brisk canter, was at his side in a few minutes. Thaddeus asked
anxiously about the baronet's health. Pembroke answered with an
incoherency devoid of all meaning. Thaddeus looked at him with
surprise, but from increased anxiety forbore to repeat the question.
They walked towards the inn; still Pembroke did not appear to recover
himself, and his evident absence of mind and the wild rambling of his
eyes were so striking, that Thaddeus could have no doubt of some
dreadful accident.
As soon as they had entered the little parlor, his friend cast
himself into a chair, and throwing off his hat, wiped away the
perspiration which, though a cold October evening, was streaming down
his forehead.
Pages:
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600