| | 1 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion  | | | | 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: | “My dear Champ—I have heard of your conduct, sir,
and have no intention of being made the laughing-stock of
my neighbors, as the father of a fool. No, sir! I decline
being advised and pitied, and talked about and to by the
country on your account. I know why you have left the
Hall, sir, and taken up your residence in town. Alethea
has told me how you insulted her, and flouted her well-meant
advice, and because she entreated you, as your sister, not to
go near that young woman again, tossed from her, and fell
into your present courses. I tell you again, sir, that I will
not endure your conduct. I won't have the parson condoling,
and shaking his head, and sighing, and, when he comes
in the Litany to pray for deliverance from all inordinate and
sinful affections—from all the deceits of the world, the
flesh, and the devil—have him looking at the Hall pew,
and groaning, until every body understands his meaning.
No, sir! If you make yourself a fool about that common
actress, you shall not drag us into it. And Clare Lee!
have you no regard for her feelings? Damn my blood, sir!
I am ashamed of you. Come away directly. If you are
guilty of any thing unworthy toward that young woman, I
will strike your name from the family Bible, and never look
upon your face again. Remember, sir; and you won't be
fool enough to marry her, I hope. Try it, sir, and see the
consequence. Pah! a common actress for my daughter—
the wife of the representative of the house of Effingham,
after my death. 'Sdeah, sir! it is intolerable, abominable;
and I command you to return at once, and never look upon
that young woman again. For shame, sir. Am I, at my
age, to be made a laughing-stock of, to be jeered at by the
common people, at the county court, as the father of the
young man that played the fool with the actress? No, sir.
Leave that place, and come and do what you are expected to
do, called on to do—take Clare Lee to the Governor's ball.
I inclose your invitation. Leave that woman and her artful
seductions. Reflect, sir, and do your duty to Clare, like a
gentleman. If it is necessary, I repeat, sir, I command you
to return, and never see that girl again. “I have received your letter, sir, and decline returning
to Effingham Hall, or being dictated to. I have passed my
majority, and am my own master. No one on earth shall
make a slave of me. “A man about to die, calls on the only Englishman he
knows in this place, to do a deed of charity. Hallam, we
were friends—a long time since, in Kent, Old England, and
to you I make this appeal, which you will read when I will
be cold and stiff. You know we were rivals—Jane chose
to marry me! I used no underhand acts, but fought it fairly
and like an honest soldier—and won her. You know it, and
are too honest a man to bear me any grudge now. I married
her, and we went away to foreign countries, and I became
a soldier of fortune—now here—now there:—it runs
in the family, for my father was covered with wounds. She
stuck to me—sharing all my trials—my suffering—as she
shared my fortunate days. She was my only hope on earth
—my blessing:—but one day God took her from me. She
died, Hallam, but she left herself behind in a little daughter
—I called her Beatrice, at the request of her mother. The
locket around the child's neck, is her mother's gift to her:
preserve it. Well: we travelled—I grew sick—I came to
Malta, here—I am dying. Already I feel the cold mounting
from my feet to my heart—my eyes are growing hazy, as
my hand staggers along—my last battle's come, comrade!
Take the child, and carry her to my brother John Waters,
who lives in London somewhere—find where he is, and tell
him, that Ralph Waters sends his baby to him to take care
of:—she is yonder playing on the floor while I am dying. I
ask you to do this, because you are an honest man, and because
you loved Jane once. I have no money—all I had is
gone for doctor's stuff and that:—he couldn't stand up
against death! Keep my military coat to remember me by
—it is all I have got. As you loved her who was my wife,
now up in heaven, take care of the child of an English soldier;
and God reward you. “Please come to me. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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