At the Mercy of TiberiusEvans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
History
At the Mercy of Tiberius
Evans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
Rome -- History -- Tiberius, 14-37 -- Fiction
Keeping lonely vigil, amid the strewn wreck of life and hope, she had
waved away one persistent thought, that lit up the blackness with a
sudden glory, that came with the face of an angel of light, and babbled
with the silvery tongue of sorcery. As far as her future was concerned,
this world had practically come to a premature end; but above the roar
of ruin, and out of the yawning graves of slaughtered possibilities,
rose and rang the challenge: If she had never come South, if she could
have been allowed the chance of happiness that seemed every woman's
birthright, if she had met and known Mr. Dunbar, before he was pledged
to another; what then? If she were once more the Beryl of old, and he
were free? If? What necromancy so wonderful, as the potentiality of if?
Weighed in that popular balance--appearances--how stood the poor
friendless prisoner, loaded with suspicion, tarnished with obloquy, on
the verge of an ignominious death; in comparison with the fair, proud
heiress, dowered with blue blood, powerful in patrician influence, rich
in all that made her the envy of her social world?
In the dazzling zenith of temporal prosperity, Leo Gordon considered
the heart of her betrothed her most precious possession; the one jewel
which she would gladly have given all else to preserve; and yet, fate
tore it from her grasp, and laid it at the feet, nay thrust it into the
white hand of the woman who must die for a fiendish crime. A latter-day
seer tells us, that in all realms, "Between laws there is no analogy,
there is Continuity"; then in the universe of ethical sociology, who
shall trace the illimitable ramifications of the Law of Compensation?
Up and down, back and forth, slowly, wearily walked the prisoner; and
when the town clock struck eight, she mechanically counted each stroke.
As in drowning men, the landmarks of a lifetime rise, huddle, almost
press upon the glazing eyes, so the phantasmagoria of Beryl's past,
seemed projected in strange luminousness upon the pall of the present,
like profiles in silvery flame cast on a black curtain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account