Anna Cora Ogden Mowatt Ritchie

“ You have never repented that you loved him?"
"Never!" answered Madeleine, with fervor.
"And you believe that he loves you?"
Madeleine bowed her head.
"And you have loved him long? Perhaps you loved him early in your girlhood; perhaps you loved him from the time you first met?"
Madeleine bowed her head again.
"Even as he did you?"
"I do not know," she answered, in a low voice.
"That is strange; men are apt to boast of the length as well as of the strength of their passion," remarked Maurice. "Your lover must be an exception. But perhaps he is unaware that he is blest by your love?" ”

“ Bertha answered, "One secret of Madeleine's cheerfulness is her unquenchable hope. Even in her saddest moments, the light of hope never appeared to be extinguished. It shone about her almost like a visible halo, and illumined all her present and her future. Have you not remarked the strength of this characteristic?"
"That I have!" he replied with warmth. "And it forced upon my conviction the truth of the poet's words that 'hope and wisdom are akin'; that it is always wise to hope, and the most wise, because those who have most faith, ever hope most. ”

“ The countess was stricken dumb with rage; and a sudden revulsion of feeling toward the shrinking girl, whose deep blushes she interpreted into a token of exultation, made her almost as willing to drive her forth, no matter whither, as her son himself.
Bertha, with an exclamation of delight, flung her arms joyfully about Madeleine's neck.
"Maurice, are you mad? Do you forget that you are my son?" was all that the count could gasp out, in his indignant amazement.
"It is as your son that I speak; it is as the inheritor of your name,—that name which Madeleine also bears." ”

“ No other woman has had power to efface your image. Having known you, without ever suspecting who and what you are"—
Madeleine interrupted him.
"Now that you are aware who I am and what I am, my lord, it becomes easier to dissipate any illusion which owes its origin to a mystery with which you were pleased to surround me."
"To exchange my illusions, perhaps, for others, more captivating, more poetic," resumed the nobleman.
"Do you talk of poetry, my lord, to a mantua-maker?"
"Say, rather, to one who, in spite of her vocation, inspires me with the most absolute veneration. ”

“ Why did he, yesterday, when he caught sight of me, suddenly disappear, as though desirous of eluding observation?"
"Maurice, if there be true affection between us," said Madeleine, gently, and laying her delicate white hand upon his, "if there be true, cousinly affection between us, we should trust each other wholly, and in spite of appearances. Though it is easy for me to explain why I admitted Lord Linden to a private interview, it may not always be equally easy to give you explanations; and we may bring great future sorrow upon each other if either give entertainment to a doubt." ”

“ But Count Damoreau has insulted us grossly. How has he dared to entertain such an offer for a member of our family,—one in whose veins flows the same untainted blood? Why do you not speak, my son? But indignation may well deprive you of speech!"
"I can only say that in some manner we must at once rid ourselves of Madeleine."
"I would rather see her dead than in a situation which disgraced her noble name," answered the countess, violently.
"I quite agree with you," returned the count, with a sardonic look; "but, unfortunately, life and death are not in our hands!" ”

“ Madeleine sat and gazed at him as she could never have gazed when his eyes might have met hers; she gazed until her whole soul flashed into her face; and if Maurice had awakened, and caught but one glimpse of the fervent radiance of that look, he would surely have known her secret.
There is intense fascination to a woman in scanning the face that to her is beyond all others worth perusing, when the soft breath of sleep renders the beloved object unconscious of the eyes bent tenderly upon his features. No check is given to the flood of worshipping love that pours itself out from her soul ”

“ Bertha frankly stretched out her hand to him; he took it with joyful emotion.
"Whom would she have to defend her if I did not, since her family discard her? Since even an able young lawyer utters not a word to plead her cause?" he added, looking reproachfully at Maurice. "But she shall never lack a defender while I live, for I love her as a sister! I venerate her as a saint. To me she is the type of all that is best and noblest in the world! The type of that which is greater, more valuable than glory, more useful than fame, more noble than the blood of countesses and duchesses—honest labor!" ”