The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)Burney, Fanny
History
The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)
Burney, Fanny
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Refugees -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Refugees -- Fiction; War stories
To descend the hill, would be to meet him: to go on yet further, when
not a cottage, perhaps, might be open, would almost seem to expect being
overtaken: yet to remain and await him, was out of all question. She
saw, therefore, no hope of security, but by endeavouring to regain the
street, through a circuitous path, by sudden rapidity of flight.
But, upon gliding, with this design, to the other side of the church,
she was struck with amazement to see that the church-door was ajar; and
to perceive, at the same instant, a passing shadow, reflected through a
window, of some one within the building.
Was this accident? or had it any connection with the tall unknown who
followed her?
Filled with wonder and alarm, though a stranger to every species of
superstition, her feet staggered, and her presence of mind threatened to
play her false; when again a fleeting shadow, of she knew not whom nor
what, gleamed athwart a monument.
Summoning now her utmost force, though shaking with nameless
apprehensions, she crossed, with celerity, a gravestone, to gain what
appeared to be the quickest route for descending; when the sound of a
hasty step, immediately behind her, gave her the fearful intelligence
that escape was impossible.
Nevertheless, though nearly overcome with dread, she was pressing on;
but some one, rushing abruptly past her, and turning short round, stopt
her passage.
Horrour thrilled through her every vein, in the persuasion that she was
the destined victim of deliberate delusion, when the words, 'It is,
indeed, then, you!' uttered in an accent of astonishment, yet with
softness, made her hastily raise her eyes,--and raise them upon
Harleigh.
Bereft of prudence, in the suddenness of her joy; forgetting
self-command, and casting off all guard, all reserve, she rapturously
held out to him her willing hands, exclaiming, 'Oh, Mr Harleigh!--are
you, then, my destined protector?--my guardian angel?'
Speechless from transported surprize, Harleigh pressed to his lips and
to his heart each unresisting hand; while Juliet, whose eyes beamed
lustrous with buoyant felicity, was unconscious of the happiness that
she bestowed, from the absorption of the delight that she experienced.
'Precious, for ever precious moment!' cried Harleigh, when the power of
utterance returned; 'Here, on this spot, where first the tortures of the
most deadly suspense give way to the most exquisite hopes,--'
The countenance of Juliet now again underwent a change the most sudden;
its brilliancy was overclouded; its smiles vanished; its joy died away;
not, indeed, to return to its look of horrour and affright, but to
convey an expression of the deepest shame and regret; and, with cheeks
tingling with burning blushes, she strove to regain her hands; to
recover her composure; and to account to him, by relating what had been
her dread, and her mistake, for her flattering reception.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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