--You seem
abashed--uncertain--what is the meaning of this?--Did you not come
to succour my distress?--Was it not pity for your poor--forlorn--desolate
Imogen--that directed your steps?"
"Yes, loveliest of thy sex," replied her betrayer. "I flew upon the
wings of love. I was brought along by a celestial, impulsive guidance,
which I followed I knew not why. Oh how gracious the condescension, how
happy the obedience, how grateful the interview! Yes, Imogen, I was in
despair. I was terrified at the concurring prodigies by which we were
separated, and I feared never, never to behold that beauteous form
again. Come then and let me clasp thee to my bosom. Oh, thou art sweeter
than the incense-breathing rose, and brighter than the lily of the
vale!"
For a moment, the affectionate and unsuspicious shepherdess received his
caresses with complacence and pleasure. Suddenly however she recollected
herself; instinctively and without reflection she repulsed the undue
warmth of his attentions. "This," cried she, "is no time for fond
indulgence, and careless dalliance--Fate is on the wing.--Our situation
is arduous--and we are in the midst of enemies.--Every thing that
surrounds us is full of danger--all is deceit and treachery--appearances
are insidious--all is frightful suspense and headlong precipice.
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