Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 1, July 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 1, July 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
“Unreasonable, Amy! Have I not cause to speak bitterly? Have I not been
defrauded of my just rights? Have I not been robbed—ay, literally
_robbed_ of the fortune my father left me when I was too young to know
its value? Can I forget that one, one of my own kith and kin, too, lives
in the dwelling of my forefathers, and calls their broad lands his, when
he knows, and I know, and the world knows, that I am the rightful heir?
Can I forget all this, and that I am _here_?” he added, glancing
contemptuously round upon the rough walls of his cottage. “And you, too,
Amy—you, who were born and reared in a home of luxury—you, whose
presence would grace the proudest drawing-room in the land; you, whom I
wooed and won before I dreamed that I was to tread a path like this; and
yet, angel that you are, you who have never breathed a word of reproach,
or a syllable of complaint, your home, too, is here in this rude
cabin”—and the proud man bowed his head, and something that looked
strangely like a tear, glittered a moment in the firelight.
“But you are here with me in this rude cabin as you call it, dearest,
you and our little ones; and how many times must I tell you that I would
rather be here, provided I am by your side, than to sit upon the throne
of the Indies without you? I believe you say these things,” she
continued, playfully, kissing his flushed brow as she spoke, for she
would fain have won him back to more cheerful thoughts, “I believe you
say these things just for the sake of hearing me tell you over and over
again how dearly I love you, and how happy I am with you. Is it not so,
darling?”
But Andrew Gordon was not to be cheered even by the tender caresses of
his wife. His mind would dwell upon themes, the contemplation of which
was destroying his peace of mind, and fast changing his very nature.
“I tell you, Amy,” he said, rising and pacing the apartment with a
hurried step, “I tell you, Amy, I will be rich! and Frederick shall be
as rich, ay, richer, than if his father had not been cheated out of his
inheritance. They think,” he added, with a flashing eye, “that they have
trampled me in the very dust, but they cannot keep me there. I will be
rich and influential; and as soon as Fred is old enough to learn the
lesson, I will teach him how to make money, and how to keep it, too.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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