Yet,
what but ingratitude of the grossest nature could a Morton
expect at the hands of the false family of De Haldimar!
They were destined to be our bane, and well have they
fulfilled the end for which they were created."
"Almighty Providence!" aspirated the sinking Clara, as
she turned her streaming eyes to heaven; "can it be that
the human heart can undergo such change? Can this be the
being who once loved my mother with a purity and tenderness
of affection that angels themselves might hallow with
approval; or is all that I have heard but a bewildering
dream?"
"No, Clara," calmly and even solemnly returned the warrior;
"it is no dream, but a reality--a sad, dreadful,
heart-rending reality; yet, if I am that altered being,
to whom is the change to be ascribed? Who turned the
generous current of my blood into a river of overflowing
gall? Who, when my cup was mantling with the only bliss
I coveted upon earth, traitorously emptied it, and
substituted a heart-corroding poison in its stead? Who
blighted my fair name, and cast me forth an alien in the
land of my forefathers? Who, in a word, cut me off from
every joy that existence can impart to man? Who did all
this? Your father! But these are idle words.
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