Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 2Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 2
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Cousins -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction
'I have been looking back on my life; I have had plenty of time during
these months of inaction, which I begin to see were fit discipline.
Till Holdsworth left his parish under my charge the other day for six
weeks, I have exercised no office of my ministry, as you know that Mr.
Purvis's tone with me cut me off from anything that could seem like
meddling with him. I never felt more grateful to any man than I did
when Holdsworth made the proposal. It was as if my penance were
accepted for the spirit against which you too justly warned me before
my Ordination. Sunday was something between a very sorrowful and a
very happy day.
'I did not see the whole truth at first. I was only aware of my
unhappy temper, which had provoked the immediate punishment; but the
effort (generally a failure) to prevent my irritability from adding to
the distresses I had brought on my poor wife, opened my eyes to much
that I had never understood. Yet I had presumed to become an
instructor--I deemed myself irreproachable!
'I believe the origin of the whole was, that I never distinguished a
fierce spirit of self-exaltation from my grandmother's noble resolution
to be independent. It was a demon which took the semblance of good,
and left no room for demons of a baser sort. Even as a boy at the
Grammar-school, I kept out of evil from the pride of proving myself
gentlemanly under any circumstances; the motive was not a bit better
than that which made me bully you. I can never remember being without
an angry and injured feeling that my uncle's neglect left my
grandmother burdened, and obliged me to receive an inferior education;
and with this, a certain hope that he would never put himself in the
right, nor lay me under obligations. You saw how this motive actuated
me, when I never discerned it. I trust that I was not insincere, though
presumptuous and self-deceiving I was to an extent which I can only
remember with horror. If it approached to sacrilege, may the wilful
blindness be forgiven! At least, I knew it not; and with all my heart
I meant to fulfil the vows I had taken on me. Thus, when my uncle
actually returned, there was a species of revengeful satisfaction in
making my profession interfere with his views, when he had made it the
only one eligible for me. How ill I behaved--how obstinately I set
myself against all mediation--how I wrapped myself in
self-approval--you know better than I do. My conceit, and absurdity,
and thanklessness, have risen up before me; and I remember offers that
would have involved no sacrifice of my clerical obligations--offers
that I would not even consider--classing them all as 'mere truckling
with my conscience.' What did I take for a conscience?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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