| | 1 | Author: | Tucker
Beverley
1784-1851 | Add | | | Title: | George Balcombe  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | At length, issuing from the wood, I entered a
prairie, more beautiful than any I had yet seen.
The surface, gently undulating, presented innumerable
swells, on which the eye might rest with
pleasure. Many of these were capped with
clumps and groves of trees, thus interrupting the
dull uniformity which generally wearies the traveller
in these vast expanses. I gazed around for
a moment with delight but soon found leisure
to observe that my road had become alarmingly
indistinct. It is easy, indeed, to follow the faintest
trace through a prairie. The beaten track, however
narrow, wears a peculiar aspect, which makes
it distinguishable even at a distance. But the name
of Arlington, the place of my destination, denoted
at least a village; while the tedious path which I
was travelling seemed more like to terminate in
the midst of the prairie, than to lead to a public
haunt of men. I feared I had missed my way, and
looked eagerly ahead for some traveller, who might
set me right, if astray. But I looked in vain.
The prairie lay before me, a wide waste, without
one moving object. The sun had just gone down;
and as my horse, enlivened by the shade and the
freshness of evening, seemed to recover his mettle,
I determined to push on to such termination as my
path might lead to. “I wrote you, under date of March tenth, that
the bill remitted by you for one thousand dollars,
drawn by Edward Montague on the house of
Tompkins and Todd of this city, had been paid
by a draft on Bell and Brothers of Liverpool, England.
This draft I remitted, according to your
directions, to my friend John Ferguson, of the
house of Ferguson and Partridge, our correspondents
there, with instructions to obtain, if possible,
from the same house, a draft on the county of
Northumberland. In this he succeeded, by procuring
a draft on Edward Raby, Esq. of that
county, for a like amount. “A draft drawn by Edward Montague, Esq.,
for one thousand dollars, was this day presented,
and paid by us in pursuance of your standing instructions. “The draft of Messrs. Tompkins and Todd, on
account of Mr. Montague's annuity, is to hand, and
has been duly honoured. “Among the crosses of a wayward destiny, it
is not the least, that for so many years I have lost
all trace of the only man on earth to whom I
could look for kindness or sympathy. Since accident
has discovered to me your residence, I have
felt as if fate might have in store for me some
solace for a life of poverty and disgrace. For the
last, indeed, there is no remedy; for the opinion
of others cannot stifle the voice of self-reproach,
nor deaden the sense of merited dishonour. But,
bad as these are, (and they are enough to poison
all enjoyment, to extinguish all hope, and to turn
the very light of heaven into blackness,) they may
be rendered more intolerable by the cold scorn of
the world, by the unappeased wants of nature, and
by the constant view of sufferings, brought by ourselves
on those we love. This complication of
evil has been my lot; and if one ray of comfort
has ever shot into my benighted mind, it came with
the thought, that he who knew me best knew all
my fault, but did not think me vile. But what
reason have I to think this? Why may not the
misconstruction, which conscience has denied me
power to correct, have reached you uncontradicted?
How can I hope that you have not been
told, that the lip, on which, with your last blessing,
you left the kiss of pure, and generous, and ill-requited
love, has not been since steeped in the
pollution of a villain's breath? All this may have
been told you. All this you may believe. But,
whatever else may be credited against me, you
will never doubt my truth. No, George; the fearful
proof I once gave that I am incapable of deception,
is not forgotten. Take, then, my single
word, against all the world can say, that that hallowed
kiss `my lip has virgined' to this hour.
VOL. I.—M.
Except the cold and clammy brow of my dying
father, no touch of man has since invaded it; nor
has one smile profaned it, since in that moment I
consecrated it to virtue. “It is not the purpose of this letter to reproach
you with your crimes, or to degrade myself by
fruitless complaint of the wretchedness they have
brought upon me. My weak voice can add no
terrors to the thunders of conscience. The history
of my sufferings would be superfluous. So
far as you are capable of comprehending them, you
already know them. The want of the necessaries
of life you can appreciate. Of the sting of self-reproach
to a conscience not rendered callous by
crime, of the deep sense of irreparable dishonour,
of the misery of witnessing distress brought by
our fault on those we love, you can form no conception. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
|
