- end_line
- 2986
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2965
- text
- Isabel, thou art my sister; and I will love thee, and protect thee, ay,
and own thee through all. Ah! forgive me, ye heavens, for my ignorant
ravings, and accept this my vow.--Here I swear myself Isabel's. Oh! thou
poor castaway girl, that in loneliness and anguish must have long
breathed that same air, which I have only inhaled for delight; thou who
must even now be weeping, and weeping, cast into an ocean of uncertainty
as to thy fate, which heaven hath placed in my hands; sweet Isabel!
would I not be baser than brass, and harder, and colder than ice, if I
could be insensible to such claims as thine? Thou movest before me, in
rainbows spun of thy tears! I see thee long weeping, and God demands me
for thy comforter; and comfort thee, stand by thee, and fight for thee,
will thy leapingly-acknowledging brother, whom thy own father named
Pierre!"
He could not stay in his chamber: the house contracted to a nut-shell
around him; the walls smote his forehead; bare-headed he rushed from the
place, and only in the infinite air, found scope for that boundless
expansion of his life.
- title
- Chunk 2