His tall, slender figure and fine
countenance bespoke for him at first sight one's confidence. That
he was sincerely and deeply enamored of Clotelle all could see.
The weather became still more squally. The wind rushed through the
white, foaming waves, and the ship groaned with its own wild and
ungovernable labors, while nothing could be seen but the wild
waste of waters. The scene was indeed one of fearful sublimity.
Day came and went without any abatement of the storm. Despair was
now on every countenance. Occasionally a vivid flash of lightning
would break forth and illuminate the black and boiling surges that
surrounded the vessel, which was now scudding before the blast
under bare poles.
After five days of most intensely stormy weather, the sea settled
down into a dead calm, and the passengers flocked on deck. During
the last three days of the storm, Clotelle had been so unwell as
to be unable to raise her head. Her pale face and quivering lips
and languid appearance made her look as if every pulsation had
ceased. Her magnificent large and soft eyes, fringed with lashes
as dark as night, gave her an angelic appearance. The unreserved
attention of Devenant, even when sea-sick himself, did much to
increase the little love that the at first distrustful girl had
placed in him. The heart must always have some object on which to
centre its affections, and Clotelle having lost all hope of ever
again seeing Jerome, it was but natural that she should now
transfer her love to one who was so greatly befriending her.
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