Tears, at last, began to trickle down her cheeks, as she stood fixedly
looking up. She started, looked about her, and hastening to her mother,
threw her arms about her neck; and, hiding her face in her bosom, broke
out into a flood of tears, mingled with sobs that penetrated every heart.
The first words she said, were, Love me, my mamma! Love your child! your
poor child! your Clementina! Then raising her head, and again laying it
in her mother's bosom--If ever you loved me, love me now, my mamma!--I
have need of your love!
My father was forced to withdraw. He was led out by his two sons.
Your poor Jeronymo was unable to help himself. He wanted as much comfort
as his father. What were the wounds of his body, at that time, to those
of his mind?
My two brothers returned. This dear girl, said the bishop, will break
all our hearts.
Her tears had seemed to relieve her. She held up her head. My mother's
bosom seemed wet with her child's tears and her own. Still she looked
round her.
Suppose, said I, somebody were to name the man she seems to look for? It
may divert this wildness.
Did she come down, said Laurana to Camilla, with the expectation of
seeing him?
She did.
Let me, said the bishop, speak to her. He arose, and, taking her hand,
walked with her about the room. You look pretty, my Clementina! Your
ornaments are charmingly fancied.
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