by John Richardson, Wacousta — Volume III, Chapter IX (1832)
“ A new consciousness seemed to be stirred up in her soul. Her eye dropped beneath its long and silken fringe--her cheek became crimson--her bosom heaved--and, all confidingness, she sank her head upon my chest, which heaved scarcely less wildly than her own."Had I been a cold-blooded villain--a selfish and remorseless seducer," continued Wacousta with vehemence --"what was to have prevented my triumph at that moment? But I came not to blight the flower that had long been nurtured, though unseen, with the life-blood of my own being. ”
