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her, that her sufferings were now over: no one possessed the art of
consoling like Raymond; he did not reason or declaim, but his look shone
with sympathy; he brought pleasant images before the sufferer; his caresses
excited no distrust, for they arose purely from the feeling which leads a
mother to kiss her wounded child; a desire to demonstrate in every possible
way the truth of his feelings, and the keenness of his wish to pour balm
into the lacerated mind of the unfortunate. As Evadne regained her
composure, his manner became even gay; he sported with the idea of her
poverty. Something told him that it was not its real evils that lay heavily
at her heart, but the debasement and disgrace attendant on it; as he
talked, he divested it of these; sometimes speaking of her fortitude with
energetic praise; then, alluding to her past state, he called her his
Princess in disguise. He made her warm offers of service; she was too much
occupied by more engrossing thoughts, either to accept or reject them; at
length he left her, making a promise to repeat his visit the next day. He
returned home, full of mingled feelings, of pain excited by Evadne's
wretchedness, and pleasure at the prospect of relieving it. Some motive for
which he did not account, even to himself, prevented him from relating his
adventure to Perdita.
The next day he threw such disguise over his person as a cloak afforded,
and revisited Evadne. As he went, he bought a basket of costly fruits, such
as were natives of her own country, and throwing over these various
beautiful flowers, bore it himself to the miserable garret of his friend.
"Behold," cried he, as he entered, "what bird's food I have brought for my
sparrow on the house-top."
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