by John Richardson

Summary

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.
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Source: Wikisource

by John Richardson,  Wacousta — Volume III, Chapter IX (1832)

“ And for these I loved her to my own undoing.
"Blind vanity, inconceivable folly!" continued Wacousta, again pressing his forehead with force; "how could I be so infatuated as not to perceive, that although her heart was filled with a new and delicious passion, it was less the individual than the man she loved. And how could it be otherwise, since I was the first, beside her father, she had ever seen or recollected to have seen? Still, Clara de Haldimar," he pursued, with haughty energy, "I was not always the rugged being I now appear.
”
Source: Wikisource

by John Richardson,  Wacousta — Volume III, Chapter IX (1832)

“ Yes, Clara de Haldimar, your mother was the child of nature THEN. Unspoiled by the forms, unvitiated by the sophistries of a world with which she had never mixed, her intelligent innocence made the most artless avowals to my enraptured ear,--avowals that the more profligate minded woman of society would have blushed to whisper even to herself. ”
Source: Wikisource

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