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Updated: May 31, 2025
As they approached the small house and mounted the steps leading to the front porch, Corinne's face could be seen pressed against a pane in one of the dining-room windows. Garry touched Jack's arm and pointed ahead: "Poor Cory!" he exclaimed with a deep sigh, "that's the way she is every night. Coming home is sometimes the worst part of it all, Jack."
"Then I should have been shot as a spy, I do not doubt," answered Julian, "and should never have known the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the brave Madame Drucour 'Madame le General, as she was called in Louisbourg nor of being presented in Quebec to Mademoiselle her niece." And as he spoke he bowed over Corinne's hand and raised it to his lips. The girl blushed and smiled.
If the spirit of her sons is the same now as it was in the days of which our fathers have told us, I think that she will not quietly accept repulse." Corinne's eyes flashed; she seemed to take a strange sort of pride in anticipations such as these. "I like that spirit," she cried; "it has not been the spirit of France.
But Corinne recited with a variety of tone, which did not destroy the sustained charm of the harmony; it was like several different airs played on some celestial instrument. The tones of Corinne's voice, full of sensibility and emotion, giving, effect to the Italian language, so pompous and so sonorous, produced upon Oswald an impression entirely novel.
A very little and they will turn upon us with savage fury at least if they are not withheld from it by the English themselves." Corinne's cheek flushed; she flung back her head with an indescribable gesture. "And I believe the English will withhold them. To our shame be it spoken, the French have made use of them. They have stooped to a warfare which makes civilized man shudder with horror.
He exalted the originality of Corinne's expressions, those expressions which were the offspring of her character and manner of feeling, without ever permitting any shade of affectation to disfigure a species of charm not only natural but involuntary.
There was in Corinne's look an expression of repentance and timidity which did not permit him to judge with rigour a ray from heaven seemed to descend upon, and absolve her! He took her hand, pressed it against his heart, and knelt before her, without uttering anything, without promising anything; but contemplated her with a look of love which gave the utmost latitude to hope.
The attraction of Corinne's society soon drew him back to her presence, and during the next fortnight she, at her own proposal, guided him in his exploration of Rome. Together they wandered through the ruins, the churches, the art galleries. Their opinions were seldom in agreement; Corinne was characteristically and brightly Italian in her views, Oswald characteristically and sombrely English.
If, twenty years from now," said Pomona, her tears welling out afresh, "I should see a young woman with eyes like Corinne's, an' that I felt was her, a-walking up to the bridal altar, with all the white flowers, an' the floatin' veils, an' the crowds in the church, an' the music playin', an' the minister all ready, I'd jist jerk that young woman into the vestry-room, an' have off her shoes an' stockin's in no time.
"Such a woman is not formed to live in Wales," replied Mr Edgermond; "believe me, my dear Oswald, only Englishwomen are fit for England: it does not become me to give you advice, I need not assure you that I shall not mention a word of what I have seen; but with all Corinne's accomplishments, I should say, with Thomas Walpole, of what use is all that at home?
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