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Richardson, John, 1796-1852

"Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy (Complete)"

Once more, however, she
turned to behold me, and again I had dropped on my knee,
and was conjuring her, with the same signs, to remain
and bless me with her presence. Again she returned to
her seat, and again I advanced. Scarcely less timid,
however, than the deer, which followed her every movement,
she fled a third time,--a third time looked back, and
was again induced, by my supplicating manner, to return.
Frequently was this repeated, before I finally found
myself at the feet, and pressing the hand--(oh God! what
torture in the recollection!)--yes, pressing the hand of
her for whose smile I would, even at that moment, have
sacrificed my soul; and every time she fled, the classic
disposition of her graceful limbs, and her whole natural
attitude of alarm, could only be compared with those of
one of the huntresses of Diana, intruded on in her woodland
privacy by the unhallowed presence of some daring mortal.
Such was your mother, Clara de Haldimar; yes, even such
as I have described her was Clara Beverley."
Again Wacousta paused, and his pause was longer than
usual, as, with his large hand again covering his face,
he seemed endeavouring to master the feelings which these
recollections had called up.


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