 | Randolph |  |
SARAH TO FRANK.
Summon all your manhood, I have a secret to communicate;
a matter of life and death, to you. I have made
imagine the most distressing humiliation and disappointment
to a proud nature, a nature like yours,—and be a
man. Are you prepared? Listen!
Juliet never loved you. The proofs are in my own possession.
I have written to her, for her justification. In
my opinion of her integrity, and beauty of heart, I have
committed myself, all my judgment, and all my experience.
I have been cruelly mistaken. I have helped to
delude you, my gallant and good cousin; you, whom I so
love—but, no, no; I will not weep. I loved Juliet, Frank;
—I loved her. You know that. I loved her, with all
my heart and soul—but—the thought chokes me—if
she have trifled with you, I have done with her forever—
forever and ever. I may always love her—but I shall
never esteem her again. I have written to her—warmly,
earnestly; but, I believe, not angrily;—beseeching her,
on my knees, Frank, and in tears—(it is no figure of
speech)—literally, on my knees, and in tears, to exculpate
herself. I await her answer. I can forgive her, if
she have abused my love—mocked at my judgment—
bruised and broken—my—No, no!—I will not even
write thus of her, till she be proved guilty, by her own
sweet lips. O, Juliet! how I have loved thee! Come to
me, dear—come to me!—let us weep in each other's arms.
Restore thyself to my love and admiration, and I declare,
that I will lie down and die, contented and alone.—O,
Frank, tomorrow I shall know the truth—I expected her
answer to-day:—yes!—and when the post arrived, and
brought me no letter, I felt relieved by the disappointment;
and have written to you, because I cannot, at once,
communicate the tremendous certainty that I expect.—
She never loved you;—of that, there is now, no longer,
any doubt;—of that, I am certain. I only wait now, to
learn that she has not dishonoured herself. If she have
wilfully deceived thee, I shall never forgive her. I feel
it, here—my resentments do not easily change, much as
I have prayed that they might; and, if she have wilfully
deceived thee, Frank, thou most generous man, I do fear
that there will not be time enough left to me—for relenting.
Even now, my cousin, now, while I am writing to
O, Juliet!
I wait her answer. In the meantime, be thou a man.
Awake, Frank, awake!—it will be the better for thee.—
Write to me immediately; I care not what: but write to me.
Whatever it be, it will be welcome to me; for it is probable,
very probable, that I shall be on my way to the north
—I hope—never to return!—O, Juliet!—
| Randolph | |