Helen's soul seemed rushing from her
eyes. "Ah! it is indeed he!" thought she; "no dream, no illusion, but
his very self."
He looked up; but not on her side of the building; it was to the window
of Lady Mar; and as he bowed, he smiled. All the charms of that smile
struck upon the soul of Helen; and, hastily retreating, she sunk
breathless into a seat.
"O, no! that man cannot be born for the isolated state I have just
lamented. He is not to be forever cut off from communicating that
happiness to which he would give so much enchantment!" Lady Ruthven
ejaculated this with fervor, her matron cheeks flushing with a sudden
and more forcible admiration of the person and mien of Wallace. "There
was something in that smile, Helen, which tells me all is not chilled
within. And, indeed, how should it be otherwise? That generous
interest in the happiness of all, which seems to flow in a tide of
universal love, cannot spring from a source incapable of dispensing the
softer screams of it again."
Helen, whose well-poised soul was not affected by the agitation of her
body (agitation she was determined to conquer), calmly answered: "Such
a hope little agrees with all you have been telling me of his
conversation with Edwin.
Pages:
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551