Bookbag (0)
Search:
Path::2006_10::uvaBook::tei::eaf750.xml in subject [X]
2003::01 in date [X]
UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 in subject [X]
Modify Search | New Search
Results:  1 ItemBrowse by Facet | Title | Author
Sorted by:  
Page: 1
Date
collapse2003
collapse01
01 (1)
1Author:  Evans Augusta J. (Augusta Jane) 1835-1909Add
 Title:  Vashti, or, "Until death us do part"  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “I CAN hear the sullen, savage roar of the breakers, if I do not see them, and my pretty painted bark — expectation — is bearing down helplessly upon them. Perhaps the unwelcome will not come to-day. What then? I presume I should not care; and yet, I am curious to see him, — anxious to know what sort of person will henceforth rule the house, and go in and out here as master. Of course the pleasant, peaceful days are at an end, for men always make din and strife in a household, — at least my father did, and he is the only one I know much about. But, after all, why borrow trouble? — the interloper may never come.” “I congratulate you, my young friend, on the correctness of your French themes, which I leave in the drawer of the library-table. When I return I will examine those prepared during my absence; and, in the interim, remain, “Dr. Grey: For God's sake come as quick as possible. I am afraid my mother is dying. “Edith, — No lingering vestige of affection, no remorseful tenderness, prompted that mission from which I have recently returned, and only the savage scourgings of implacable duty could have driven me, like a galley-slave, to my hated task. The victim of a horrible and disfiguring disease which so completely changed his countenance that his own mother would scarcely have recognized him, — and the tenant of a charity hospital in the town of —, I found that man who has proved the Upas of your life and of mine. During his delirium I watched and nursed him — not lovingly (how could I?) but faithfully, kindly, pityingly. When all danger was safely passed, and his clouded intellect began to clear itself, I left him in careful hands, and provided an ample amount for his comfortable maintenance in coming years. I spared him the humiliation of recognizing in his nurse his injured and despised wife; and, as night after night I watched beside the pitiable wreck of a once handsome, fascinating, and idolized man, I fully and freely forgave Maurice Carlyle all the wrongs that so completely stranded my life. To-day he is well, and probably happy, while he finds himself possessed of means by which to gratify his extravagant tastes; but how long his naturally fine constitution can hold at bay the legion of ills that hunt like hungry wolves along the track of reckless dissipation, God only knows.
 Similar Items:  Find