A Strange Story — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Science
A Strange Story — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
I stepped forth into the open air and gazed, first instinctively on the
heavens, next, with more heedful eye, upon the earth. The nature of the
soil bore the evidence of volcanic fires long since extinguished. Just
before my feet, the rays fell full upon a bright yellow streak in the
block of quartz half imbedded in the soft moist soil. In the midst of
all the solemn thoughts and the intense sorrows which weighed upon heart
and mind, that yellow gleam startled the mind into a direction remote
from philosophy, quickened the heart to a beat that chimed with no
household affections. Involuntarily I stooped; impulsively I struck the
block with the hatchet, or tomahawk, I carried habitually about me, for
the purpose of marking the trees that I wished to clear from the waste
of my broad domain. The quartz was shattered by the stroke, and left
disburied its glittering treasure. My first glance had not deceived me.
I, vain seeker after knowledge, had, at least, discovered gold. I took
up the bright metal--gold! I paused; I looked round; the land that
just before had seemed to me so worthless took the value of Ophir. Its
features had before been as unknown to me as the Mountains of the Moon,
and now my memory became wonderfully quickened. I recalled the rough map
of my possessions, the first careless ride round their boundaries.
Yes, the land on which I stood--for miles, to the spur of those farther
mountains--the land was mine, and, beneath its surface, there was gold!
I closed my eyes; for some moments visions of boundless wealth, and of
the royal power which such wealth could command, swept athwart my brain.
But my heart rapidly settled back to its real treasure. “What matters,”
I sighed, “all this dross? Could Ophir itself buy back to my Lilian’s
smile one ray of the light which gave ‘glory to the grass and splendour
to the flower’?”
So muttering, I flung the gold into the torrent that raged below, and
went on through the moonlight, sorrowing silently,--only thankful for
the discovery that had quickened my reminiscence of the landmarks by
which to steer my way through the wilderness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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