He listened, and
each instant the chilly weight loosened from his heart. Her balmy voice
now came upon his ear, breathing joy and cheerfulness, content and love.
Could love be the savage passion which lately subjugated his soul? He
rose from his seat; he walked about the room; each minute his heart
was lighter, his brow more smooth. A thousand thoughts, beautiful and
quivering like the twilight, glanced o'er his mind in indistinct but
exquisite tumult, and hope, like the voice of an angel in a storm, was
heard above all. He lifted a chair gently from the ground, and, stealing
to the enchantress, seated himself at her side. So softly he reached
her, that for a moment he was unperceived. She turned her head, and her
eyes met his. Even the ineffable incident was forgotten, as he marked
the strange gush of lovely light, that seemed to say---- what to think
of was, after all, madness.
CHAPTER V.
_Arundel's Disappointment_
THE storm was past. He vowed that a dark thought should not again cross
his mind. It was fated that she should not be his; but it was some
miserable satisfaction that he was only rejected in favour of an
attachment which had grown with her years, and had strengthened with her
stature, and in deference to an engagement hallowed by time as well as
by affection.
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