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Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth), 1835-1915

"Or When the World Was Younger"


I felt as if the river were bearing me so much nearer to that unknown sea
with every ripple of the hurrying tide. 'Twas your draught of strong wine
snatched me back from the cruel river, drew me on to _terra firma_ again,
renewed my consciousness of manhood, and that I was not a weed to be washed
away. Oh, that wine! Ye gods! what elixir to this parched, burning throat!
Did ever drunkard in all Alsatia snatch such fierce joy from a brimmer?"
Angela put her finger on her lip, and with the other hand drew the silken
coverlet over the sick man's shoulders.
"You are not to talk," she said, "you are to sleep. Slumber is to be your
diet and medicine after that good soup at which you make such a wry face."
"I would swallow the stuff were it Locusta's hell-broth, for your sake."
"You will take it for wisdom's sake, that you may mend speedily, and go
home to my sister," said Angela.
"Home, yes! It will be bliss ineffable to see flowery pastures and wooded
hills after this pest-haunted town; but oh, Angela, mine angel, why dost
thou linger in this poisonous chamber where every breath of mine exhales
infection? Why do you not fly while you are still unstricken? Truly the
plague-fiend cometh as a thief in the night.


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