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Richardson, John, 1796-1852

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

I must of necessity
retrace my way over the dangerous ridge. Great, therefore,
was her surprise, when, after having been attracted by
the rustling noise of the bushes over the aperture, she
presently saw the figure of the same hunter emerge from
the abyss it overhung. Terror had winged her flight; but
it was terror mingled with a delicious emotion entirely
new to her. It was that emotion, momentarily increasing
in power, that induced her to pause, look back, hesitate
in her course, and finally be won, by my supplicating
manner, to return and bless me with her presence.
"Two long and delicious hours," pursued Wacousta, after
another painful pause of some moments, "did we pass in
this manner; exchanging thought, and speech, and heart,
as if the term of our acquaintance had been coeval with
the first dawn of our intellectual life; when suddenly
a small silver toned bell was heard from the direction
of the house, hid from the spot--on which we sat by the
luxuriant foliage of an intervening laburnum. This sound
seemed to dissipate the dreamy calm that had wrapped the
soul of your mother into forgetfulness.


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