"Cruel, cruel!" cried Corinne; "think what you have done!"--"Pardon," he replied, in a trembling voice. "Believe me, dearest, while I thought myself dying, I trembled but for thee." Exquisite expression of mutual love and confidence! Corinne, to her last day, could not recall those words without a fondness, which, while it lasted, taught her to forgive him all. [1] Mr. Elliot saved the life of an old Neapolitan in the manner attributed to Lord Nevil. CHAPTER VII. Oswald's next impulse was to thrust his hand into his bosom for his father's portrait; it was still there; but the water had left it scarcely recognizable; he was bitterly afflicted by this loss. "My God!" he cried, "dost thou deny me even his image?" Corinne besought his permission to restore it: he consented, without much hope; what then was his amaze when, on the third morning she brought it to him, not only repaired, but more faithful than ever! "Yes," cried Oswald, "you have divined his features and his look. This heavenly miracle decides you for my life's companion, since to you is thus revealed the memory of one who must forever dispose my fate. Here is the ring my father gave his wife--the sacred bond sincerely offered by the noblest, and accepted by the most constant of hearts. Let me transfer it from my hand to thine, and, while thou keepest it, be no longer free. I take this solemn oath, not knowing to whom, but in thy soul I trust, that tells me all: the events of your life, if springing from yourself, must needs be lofty as your character. If you have been the victim to an unworthy fate, thank Heaven I can repair it; therefore, my own Corinne, you owe your secrets to one whose promises precede your confidence."--"Oswald," she answered, "this delirium is the result of a mistake. I cannot accept your ring till I have undeceived you. An inspiration of the heart, you think, taught me your father's features: I ought to tell you that I have seen him often."--"Seen him! how? when? where? O God! who are you, then?"--"Here is your ring," returned Corinne, in a smothered tone.--"No," cried Oswald, after a moment's pause; "I swear never to wed another till you send back that ring. Forgive the tumult you have raised within me; confused and half-forgotten thoughts afflict my mind."--"I see it," said Corinne; "and this shall end: already your accents and your words are changed. Perhaps when you have read my history, the horrid word adieu----"--"No, no," cried Nevil; "only from my death-bed--fear not that word till then." Corinne retired, and, in a few moments, Thérésina brought him the papers which he was now to read. BOOK XIV. HISTORY OF CORINNE. CHAPTER I. "Oswald, I begin with the avowal which must determine my fate. If, after reading it, you find it impossible to pardon, do not finish this letter, but reject and banish me; yet if, when you know the name and destiny I have renounced, all is not broken between us, what follows may then serve as my excuse.