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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"or, the Chase"

The whole party was now assembled, with
the exception of the steward, whose lamentations throughout the morning
had not been noiseless, but who was left on deck to watch the movements of
the Arabs.
The moment was not one of idle forms, and Eve Effingham, who would have
recoiled, under other circumstances, at being seen by her fellow
travellers in her present situation, scarce raised her head, in
acknowledgement of their melancholy salute, as they entered. She had been
weeping, and her hair had fallen in profusion around her shoulders. The
tears fell no longer, but a warm flushed look, one which denoted that a
struggle of the mind had gotten the better of womanly emotions, had
succeeded to deadly paleness, and rendered her loveliness of feature and
expression bright and angelic. Both of the young men thought she had never
seemed so beautiful, and both felt a secret pang, as the conviction forced
itself on them, at the same instant, that this surpassing beauty was now
likely to prove her most dangerous enemy.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Effingham, with apparent calmness, and a dignity
that no uneasiness could disturb, "my kinsman has acquainted us with the
hopeless nature of our condition, and I have begged the favour of this
visit on your own account. _We_ cannot separate; the ties of blood and
affection unite us, and our fate must be common; but, on _you_ there is no
such obligation.


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