Erema; Or, My Father's SinBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
History
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
California -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
“Never,” I replied, with as firm a face as his. “It may have been my
father's duty, or no doubt he thought it so; but it can not be mine,
unless I make it so by laying it on my honor. And I will not do that.”
“Perhaps you are right; but, at any rate, remember that I have not tried
to persuade you. I wish to do what is for your happiness, Erema. And
I think that, on the whole, with your vigor and high spirit, you are
better as you are than if you had a knowledge which you could only brood
over and not use.”
“I will find out the whole of it myself,” I cried, for I could not
repress all excitement; “and then I need not brood over it, but may have
it out and get justice. In the wildest parts of America justice comes
with perseverance: am I to abjure it in the heart of England? Lord
Castlewood, which is first--justice or honor?”
“My cousin, you are fond of asking questions difficult to answer.
Justice and honor nearly always go together. When they do otherwise,
honor stands foremost, with people of good birth, at least.”
“Then I will be a person of very bad birth. If they come into conflict
in my life, as almost every thing seems to do, my first thought shall be
of justice; and honor shall come in as its ornament afterward.”
“Erema,” said my cousin, “your meaning is good, and at your time of life
you can scarcely be expected to take a dispassionate view of things.”
At first I felt almost as if I could hate a “dispassionate view of
things.” Things are made to arouse our passion, so long as meanness and
villainy prevail; and if old men, knowing the balance of the world,
can contemplate them all “dispassionately,” more clearly than any thing
else, to my mind, that proves the beauty of being young. I am sure that
I never was hot or violent--qualities which I especially dislike--but
still I would rather almost have those than be too philosophical. And
now, while I revered my father's cousin for his gentleness, wisdom, and
long-suffering, I almost longed to fly back to the Major, prejudiced,
peppery, and red-hot for justice, at any rate in all things that
concerned himself.
CHAPTER XXXVII
SOME ANSWER TO IT
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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