Blue-Stocking Hall, (Vol. 1 of 3)Scargill, William Pitt
General
Blue-Stocking Hall, (Vol. 1 of 3)
Scargill, William Pitt
Epistolary fiction; Women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction; Women -- Education -- Fiction
But when the axe hath laid thee low,
And bowed thy graceful head;
And _me_, life's latest mortal foe,
Shall number with the dead;
Then in our bosoms' inmost seat,
The self same image found,
Reveals to view its deep retreat,
Fast in the heart-strings bound.
We gazed on each other, and the truth flashed upon our hearts in
the same instant. Frederick and I, by a movement imparted from
within, darted towards the tree together, and on examination
found a part of the once varnished surface, raised into irregular
carbuncles, where the bark had closed with time over some letters
no longer legible. With much pains, we satisfied ourselves that the
initials H. A. C. D. had been interwoven, and cut in the bark from
the external face of which, these letters had been carried inward
by the process of annual growth. It immediately occurred to us,
that our beloved parents had made this a favourite haunt in happier
days; and that the undying memory of some faithful mourner had
sought again these now almost obliterated characters. Such mourner
could have been no other than the dear surviving guardian of our
youth; and our tears flowed without restraint, as we read again and
again, the stanzas of which we had become accidentally possessed.
The first movement of our minds was, as you may suppose, to restore
them directly to their author; and it was not without considerable
reasoning between ourselves, that either could convince the other
of its being better to suppress the verses, and say nothing of the
_retreat_. From mamma's never having communicated any hint relative
to this little hermit-cell, it was obvious that she did not wish
us to discover its situation; then, the pencilled lines had been
lost for some time. She had made no inquiry about them; her memory
was able in all probability, to supply them again; and in giving
up what manifestly appeared to be mamma's own composition, such
explanation might have ensued as would have opened all her wounds
afresh, and destroyed ever afterwards the pleasure which she
appeared to feel in visiting the sequestered spot which we had
discovered. Upon mature deliberation then we agreed to hush up our
little adventure, and keep the tender effusion that we had found,
till some natural opportunity might occur of giving it back again
to its owner.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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