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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"Thaddeus of Warsaw"

But here is his picture." With an almost disabling
tremor he unclasped it from his neck where his mother's last blessing
had placed it, and touching the spring which held it in its little
gold case in the manner of a watch, he gave it open to Sir Robert,
who had started from his seat at the name of the earl. The moment the
baronet's eyes rested on the miniature, he fell senseless upon the
chair.
Thaddeus, hardly more alive, sprinkled some water on his face, and
with throbbing temples and a bleeding heart stood in wordless
expectation over him. Such excessive emotion told him that something
more than Sir Robert's hatred of the Polanders had stimulated his
late conduct. Too earnest for an explanation to ring for assistance,
he rejoiced to see, by the convulsion of the baronet's features and
the heaving of his chest, that animation was returning. In a few
minutes he opened his eyes, but when he met the anxious gaze of
Thaddeus, he closed them as suddenly. Rising from his seat, he
staggered against the chimney-piece, exclaiming, "Oh God, direct me!"
Thaddeus, whose conjectures were now wrought almost to wildness,
followed him, and whilst his exhausted frame was ready to sink to the
earth, he implored him to speak.
"Sir Robert," cried he, "if you know anything of my family, if you
know anything of my father, I beseech you to answer me. Or only tell
me: am I so wretched as to be the son of Lord Tinemouth?"
The violence of the count's emotions during this agonizing address
totally overcame him; before he finished speaking, his limbs withdrew
their support, and he dropped breathless against the side of the
chair.


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