Frank Mildmay; Or, the Naval OfficerMarryat, Frederick
History
Frank Mildmay; Or, the Naval Officer
Marryat, Frederick
Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Officers -- Fiction; Sea stories
My dear Clara had never quitted me during my confinement. I had taken
no medicine but from her hand. I asked her to give me some account of
what had happened. She told me that Talbot was gone; that my father had
seen Mr Somerville, who had informed him that Emily had received a long
letter from Eugenia, narrating every circumstance, exculpating me, and
accusing herself. Emily had wept over it, but still remained firm in
her resolution never to see me more. "And I am afraid, my dear
brother," said Clara, "that her resolution will not be very easily
altered. You know her character, and you should know something about
our sex: but sailors, they say, go round the world without going into
it. This is the only shadow of an excuse I can form for you, much as I
love and esteem you. You have hurt Emily in the nicest point, that in
which we are all the most susceptible of injury. You have wounded her
pride, which our sex rarely if ever forgive. At the very moment she
supposed you were devoted to her; that you were rapt up in the
anticipation of calling her your own, and counting the minutes with
impatience until the happy day arrived; with all this persuasion on her
mind, she comes upon you, as the traveller out of the wood suddenly
comes across the poisonous snake in his path, and cannot avoid it. She
found you locked hand-in-hand with another, a fortnight before marriage,
and with the fruits of unlawful love in your arms. What woman could
forgive this? I would not, I assure you. If Tal---, I mean if any man
were to serve me so, I would tear him from my heart, even if the
dissolution of the whole frame was to be the certain consequence. I
consider it a kindness to tell you, Frank, that you have no hope. Much
as you have and will suffer, she, poor girl, will suffer more; and
although she will never accept you, she will not let your place be
supplied by another, but sink broken-hearted into her grave. You, like
all other men, will forget this; but what a warning ought it to be to
you, that sooner or later, guilt will be productive of misery. This you
have fully proved; your licentious conduct with this woman has ruined
her peace for ever, and Divine vengeance has dashed from your lips the
cup which contained as much happiness as this world could afford. Nor
has the penalty fallen on you alone: the innocent, who had no share in
the crime, are partakers in the punishment; we are all as miserable as
yourself. But God's will be done," continued she, as she kissed my
aching forehead, and her tears fell on my face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account