Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic StorySimms, William Gilmore
General
Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic Story
Simms, William Gilmore
Domestic fiction
Months passed in this manner without effecting any serious change in
Julia, or in bringing us a step nearer to one another. Meanwhile, the
sphere of my observation and importance increased, as the circle of my
acquaintance became extended. I was regarded as a rising young man,
and one likely to be successful ultimately in my profession. The social
privileges of my friends, the Edgertons, necessarily became mine; and it
soon occurred that I encountered my uncle and his family in circles
in which it was somewhat a matter of pride with him to be permitted to
move. This, as it increased my importance in his sight, did not diminish
his pains. But he treated me now with constant deference, though with
the same unvarying coldness. When in the presence of others, he warmed a
little. I was then “his nephew;” and he would affect to speak with great
familiarity on the subject of my business, my interests, the last
case in which I was engaged, and so forth--the object of which was to
persuade third persons that our relations were precisely as they should
be, and as people would naturally suppose them.
At all these places and periods, when it was my lot to meet with Julia,
she was most usually the belle of the night. A dozen attendants followed
in her train, solicitous of all her smiles, and only studious how to
afford her pleasure. I, only, stood aloof--I, who loved her with a more
intense fervor than all, simply because I had none, or few besides to
love. The heart which has been evermore denied, will always burn with
this intensity. Its passion, once enkindled, will be the all-absorbing
flame. Devoted itself, it exacts the most religious devotion; and,
unless it receives it, recoils upon its own resources, and shrouds
itself in gloom, simply to hide its sufferings from detection.
I affected that indifference to the charms of this maiden, which no one
of human sensibilities could have felt. Opinions might have differed
in respect to her beauty; but there could be none on the score of her
virtues and her amiability, and almost as few on the possessions of her
mind. Julia Clifford, though singularly unobtrusive in society, very
soon convinced all around her that she had an excellent understanding,
which study had improved, and grace had adorned by all the most
appropriate modes of cultivation. Her steps were always followed by a
crowd--her seat invariably encircled by a group to itself. I looked on
at a distance, wrapped up in the impenetrable folds of a pride, whose
sleeves were momently plucked, as I watched, by the nervous fingers of
jealousy and suspicion. Sometimes I caught a timid glance of her eye,
addressed to the spot where I stood, full of inquiry, and, as I could
not but believe, of apprehension;--and yet, at such moments; I turned
perversely from the spot, nor suffered myself to steal another look at
one, all of whose triumphs seemed made at my expense.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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