Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic StorySimms, William Gilmore
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Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic Story
Simms, William Gilmore
Domestic fiction
I had not the courage to enter my own dwelling! My heart sank within me.
It was as if the whole hope of a long life, an intense desire, a keen
unremitting pursuit, had suddenly been for ever baffled. Let no one who
has not been in my situation; who has not been governed by like
moral and social influences from the beginning; who knows not my
sensibilities, and the organization--singular and strange it may be--of
my mind and body; let no such person jump to the conclusion that there
was any thing unnatural, however unreasonable and unreasoning, in the
wild passion which possessed me. I look back upon it with some surprise
myself. The fears which I felt, the sufferings I endured, however
unreasonable, were yet true to my training. That training made me
selfish; how selfish let my blindness show! In the blindness of self
I could see nothing but the thing I feared, the one phantom--phantom
though it were--which was sufficient to quell and crush all the better
part of man within me, banish all the real blessings which were at
command around me. I gave but a single second glance through the windows
of my habitation, and then darted desperately away from the entrance!
I bounded, without a consciousness, through the now still and dreary
streets, and found myself, without intending it, once more beside the
river, whose constant melancholy chidings, seemed the echoes-though in
the faintest possible degree--of the deep waters of some apprehensive
sorrow then rolling through all the channels of my soul.
What was it that I feared? What was it that I sought? Was it love?
Can it be that the strange passion which we call by this name, was the
source of that sad frenzy which filled and afflicted my heart? And was
I not successful in my love? Had I not found the sought?--won the
withheld? What was denied to me that I desired? I asked of myself these
questions. I asked them in vain. I could not answer them. I believe that
I can answer now. It was sincerity, earnestness, devotion from her, all
speaking through an intensity like that which I felt within my own soul.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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