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Raymond's countenance. The sight of it soothed her. She thought of the
treasure she possessed in the affections of her lord; of his
accomplishments, surpassing those of his contemporaries, his genius, his
devotion to her.--Soon she thought, that all she possessed in the world,
except him, might well be spared, nay, given with delight, a propitiatory
offering, to secure the supreme good she retained in him. Soon she
imagined, that fate demanded this sacrifice from her, as a mark she was
devoted to Raymond, and that it must be made with cheerfulness. She figured
to herself their life in the Greek isle he had selected for their retreat;
her task of soothing him; her cares for the beauteous Clara, her rides in
his company, her dedication of herself to his consolation. The picture then
presented itself to her in such glowing colours, that she feared the
reverse, and a life of magnificence and power in London; where Raymond
would no longer be hers only, nor she the sole source of happiness to him.
So far as she merely was concerned, she began to hope for defeat; and it
was only on his account that her feelings vacillated, as she heard him
gallop into the court-yard of the inn. That he should come to her alone,
wetted by the storm, careless of every thing except speed, what else could
it mean, than that, vanquished and solitary, they were to take their way
from native England, the scene of shame, and hide themselves in the myrtle
groves of the Grecian isles?
In a moment she was in his arms. The knowledge of his success had become so
much a part of himself, that he forgot that it was necessary to impart it
to his companion. She only felt in his embrace a dear assurance that while
he possessed her, he would not despair. "This is kind," she cried; "this is
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