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PAUL CLIFFORD.
CHAPTER XI.
Viola.—And dost thou love me?
Lysander....Love thee, Viola?
Do I not fly thee when my being drinks
Light from thine eyes?—that flight is all my answer!
Lysander....Love thee, Viola?
Do I not fly thee when my being drinks
Light from thine eyes?—that flight is all my answer!
The Bride.—Act 2, Scene i.
The curtain meditations of the Squire had not been without the produce of a resolve. His warm heart once re-opened to the liking he had formerly conceived for Clifford; he longed for an opportunity to atone for his past unkindness, and to testify his present gratitude; moreover, he felt at once indignant at, and ashamed of, his late conduct in joining the popular, and, as he now fully believed, the causeless prepossession against his young friend, and before a more present and a
