Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XI.—April, 1851—Vol. II.Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XI.—April, 1851—Vol. II.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
"You are trembling," she exclaimed; "this is not merely illness. You
have some sorrow on your mind that haunts you. Tell me what it is that
ails you; perhaps I may be able to console you. I have not so much
experience as you; but sometimes a young mind can advise the oldest and
the most experienced. Perhaps, too, you magnify your trouble by brooding
over it; you think upon it, till your mind is clouded, and you can not
see the remedy, which I, looking at it for the first time, might see
directly. Besides," she said, seeing me hesitate, "if you do not tell
me, I shall always be unhappy--imagining a hundred evils, each, perhaps,
more serious than the truth."
"No, Lucy," said I, "I am unwell; I have felt thus for some time, and
to-night I feel worse. I must go to bed; I shall be better after a
night's rest."
I lighted a candle, and, bidding her good night, left her and stole up
to bed--afraid to stay longer, lest I should be tempted to reveal my
secret. Oh, how could I endure the thought of her kind words, more
painful to me than the coldest scorn! She had said she loved me as a
father. In the midst of all her kindness, she had spoken of my age and
my experience. Did I, then, look so old as that? Yes, I knew that it was
not my years which made me old; it was my staid manners, my grave and
thoughtful face, which made me look an old man, even in my prime.
Bitterly I complained of my father, who had shut me out from the
knowledge of all that makes life beautiful; who had biased me to a
belief that such a life as his was best, by hiding from me all
comparison; till now, when I perceived my error, it was too late to
repair it. I surveyed my antiquated garments with disgust; my huge
cravat; the very hair of my head, by long training, become old-fashioned
beyond all reclaiming. My whole appearance was that of a man who had
slept for half a century, except that I was without a speck or soil. I
believe they would have admitted me to a masquerade in such a dress,
without a single alteration, and think that I had hired it for the
occasion. But a new hope sprang up within me. I would change my way of
life--I would try to be more cheerful; I would wear more modern clothes,
and endeavor, at least, not to make myself look older than I was.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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