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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"The Scottish Chiefs"

Her unadorned garments gave no particular
attraction to the simple lines of her form; the effulgence of her
complexion was gone; her cheek was pale, and the tremulous motion of
her step deprived her of the elastic grace which was usually the charm
of her nymph-like figure.
Triumph now sat in the eyes of the countess; and, with an air of
authority, she waved Helen to take a seat beside Lady Ruthven. But
Helen, fearful of what might be her emotion when the train should
enter, had just placed herself behind her aunt, when the steps of many
a mailed foot sounded upon the oaken floor of the outward gallery. The
next moment the great doors of the huge screen opened, and a crowd of
knights in armor flashed upon her eyes. A strange dimness overspread
her faculties, and nothing appeared to her but an indistinct throng
approaching. She would have given worlds to have been removed from the
spot, but was unable to stir; and on recovering her senses, she beheld
Lady Mar (who, exclaiming, "Ever my preserver!" had hastened forward),
now leaning on the bosom of one of the chiefs: his head was bent as if
answering her in a low voice. By the golden locks, which hung down
upon the jeweled tresses of the countess, and obscured his face, she
judged it must indeed be the deliverer of her father, the knight of her
dream.


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