Or ever thou shalt see the setting sun, I will put thy Delia
into thy arms again."
Damon was somewhat composed by these assurances. No voice like that of
Godfrey had power to sooth his mind to serenity. But though he sought to
restrain himself, he listened to every noise. He started at the sound of
every foot, and the rattle of a carriage in the street agitated his soul
almost to frenzy.
"Why does not she come? What can delay her? I have counted every moment.
I have waited whole ages. I see, I see, that every thing conspires to
cheat, and to distract me. Damon has not one friend left to whisper in his
ear--to whisper what? That Delia is no more? That all her beauties are
defaced, by some sacrilegious hand? That all her heaven of charms have
been rifled? Oh, no. I must not think of that. But hark! I thought I heard
a sound, but it is delirium all. Sure, sure it comes this way. I will
listen but this once."
The door of the chamber now flew open. But oh, what object caught the
raptured eye of Damon! He was just risen. "It is, it is my Delia!" and
they flew into each others arms. But having embraced for a moment, Damon
took hold of her hand, and held her from him. "Let me look at thee. And is
it Delia? And art thou safe, unhurt? I would not be mistaken." "Yes, I am
she, and ten times more my Damon's than ever." "It is enough. I am
contented. But hark! who comes there? Sure it is not the brutal ravisher?
No," cried he, in a voice of surprise, "it is my father.
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