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
Between William Edgerton and Julia Clifford my young life and best
affections were divided, entirely, if not equally. I lived for no
other--I cared to seek, to know, no other--and yet I often shrunk from
both. Even at that boyish period, while the heavier cares and the more
painful vexations of life were wanting to our annoyance, I had those
of that gnawing nature which seemed to be born of the tree whose evil
growth “brought death into the world and all our wo.” The pang of a
nameless jealousy--a sleepless distrust--rose unbidden to my heart at
seasons, when, in truth, there was no obvious cause. When Julia was
most gentle--when William was most generous--even then, I had learned to
repulse them with an indifference which I did not feel--a rudeness which
brought to my heart a pain even greater than that which my wantonness
inflicted upon theirs. I knew, even then, that I was perverse, unjust;
and that there was a littleness in the vexatious mood in which I
indulged, that was unjust to my own feelings, and unbecoming in a manly
nature. But even though I felt all this, as thoroughly as I could ever
feel it under any situation, I still could not succeed in overcoming
tha' insane will which drove me to its indulgence.
Vainly have I striven to account for the blindness of heart--for such
it is, in all such cases--which possessed me. Was there anything in
my secret nature, born at my birth and growing with my growth--which
impelled me to this willfulness. I can scarcely believe so; but, after
serious reflection, am compelled to think that it was the strict result
of moods growing out of the particular treatment to which I had been
subjected. It does not seem unnatural that an ardent temper of mind,
willing to confide, looking to love and affection for the only aliment
which it most and chiefly desires, and repelled in this search, frowned
on by its superiors as if it were something base, will, in time, grow to
be habitually wilful, even as the treatment which has schooled it. Had I
been governed and guided by justice, I am sure that I should never have
been unjust.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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