Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol III, No 13, 1851Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol III, No 13, 1851
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
There was a pause, during which she gradually recovered her
self-composure. I felt that these expressions gave me a nobler motive
for surrendering every thing for her sake. She seemed to make me a hero
by the penalties my devotion enforced upon me; and I was eager to prove
myself capable of the most heroic sacrifices. In the abyss of an
overwhelming passion, where reason is imprisoned by the senses, every
man is willing to be a martyr.
"You have required of me, Astræa," said I, "no, not required; but you
have placed before me the possibility of sufferings and trials resulting
from our union--loss of friends, the surrender of many things that enter
into the ordinary scheme of married life, and that are considered by the
world indispensable to its happiness. I am ready to relinquish them all.
I have looked for this end. I know not why it should be so, nor does it
give me a moment's concern. I only know that I love you passionately,
and that life is desolation to me without you. Let us therefore have no
further delay. All impediments are now out of our path. We have our
destinies in our own hands. Let us knit them into one, and disappoint
the scandal and malignity which, from that hour, can exercise no further
influence over us."
"You spoke," returned Astræa, looking with a calm, clear gaze into my
face, as if she penetrated my soul, "you spoke of married life."
The question surprised me. It was her look more than her words that
conveyed a meaning, indistinct, but full of terrible suggestions. It was
a key to a thousand painful conjectures, which flashed upon me in an
instant, leaving confusion and giddiness behind, and nothing certain but
the fear of what was to follow. I could not answer her; or, rather, did
not know how to answer her, and merely tried to reassure her with a
smile, which I felt was hollow and unnatural.
"One word," she proceeded, in the same tone, "must dispel that dream
forever. It is not for us that serene life you speak of. It is not for
me. Our destinies, if they be knit together, must be cemented by our own
hands, not at the altar in the church, but in the sight of heaven--a
bond more solemn, and imposing a more sacred obligation."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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