Guy Rivers: A Tale of GeorgiaSimms, William Gilmore
History
Guy Rivers: A Tale of Georgia
Simms, William Gilmore
Georgia -- History -- 1775-1865 -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction
The gloomy despondence of her spirit was uppermost; and she went on, in
a series of bitter musings, denouncing herself as an outcast, a
worthless something, and, in the language of the sacred text, calling on
the rocks and mountains to cover her. The outlaw, who had none of those
fine feelings which permitted of even momentary sympathy with that
desolation of heart, the sublime agonies of which are so well calculated
to enlist and awaken it, cut short the strain of sorrow and complaint by
a fierce exclamation, which seemed to stun every sense of her spirit.
"Will you never have done?" he demanded. "Am I for ever to listen to
this weakness--this unavailing reproach of yourself and everything
around you? Do I not know that all your complaints and reproaches,
though you address them in so many words to yourself, are intended only
for my use and ear? Can I not see through the poor hypocrisy of such a
lamentation? Know I not that when you curse and deplore the sin you only
withhold the malediction from him who tempted and partook of it, in the
hope that his own spirit will apply it all to himself? Away, girl; I
thought you had a nobler spirit--I thought you felt the love that I now
find existed only in expression."
"I do feel that love; I would, Guy that I felt it not--that it did exist
only in my words. I were then far happier than I am now, since stern
look or language from you would then utterly fail to vex and wound as it
does now. I can not bear your reproaches; look not thus upon me, and
speak not in those harsh sentences--not now--not now, at least, and in
this melancholy presence."
Her looks turned upon the dead body of her parent as she spoke, and with
convulsive effort she rushed toward and clasped it round. She threw
herself beside the corpse and remained inanimate, while the outlaw,
leaving the house for an instant, called the negro servant and commanded
her attendance. He now approached the girl, and taking up her hand,
which lay supine upon the bosom of the dead body, would have soothed her
grief; but though she did not repulse, she yet did not regard him.
"Be calm, Ellen," he said, "recover and be firm. In the morning you
shall have early and good attention, and with this object, in part, am I
disposed to hurry now. Think not, girl, that I forget you. Whatever may
be my fortune, I shall always have an eye to yours. I leave you now, but
shall see you before long, when I shall settle you permanently and
comfortably. Farewell."
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