Christian fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Beholding, at this moment, a frank, brave, handsome youth by his side,
full of talent and of promise, and singularly attractive in manner,--in
whose veins, too, ran some of the same blood that filled his own, and
whose features were moulded after the best ancestral type,--his dormant
affections quickly awakened to fasten themselves pertinaciously around
the timely object. His thoughts began industriously to shape out for
himself a new future, which should embrace, as a setting its
appropriate jewel, a brilliant and prosperous career for this young
hope of his house. The unsuspected strength of these feelings now made
itself clearly visible, both in the hearty grasp which he gave his
nephew's hand, and in a sudden affectionateness of eyes, mouth, voice,
gesture, and every indescribable manifestation, that Bergan had never
seen in him before. Naturally enough, the young man shrank from the
utterance of words certain to drive back on itself this outgush of the
inestimable tenderness of a stern nature, to bring back the old
sharpness and severity to eyes that now lay so soft and deep under
their shaggy brows.
Moreover, he felt that his own resolution was wavering. Bergan Hall
had grown strangely dear to him during his solitary occupation of its
silent, but suggestive precincts. He might have been proof against
every temptation that it could have offered in its grandeur and its
prosperity; but in its loneliness and decay there was a pathetic appeal
to much that was best and noblest in his nature. To this influence, a
stronger one, even, was now added. Seeing the strength of his uncle's
new-born affection, and its softening effect upon his face and manner,
Bergan began to question within himself whether a still better and
nobler work than the restoration of the ancestral home, might not here
call for his hand--even the restoration of a human life. Those woful
habits of intoxication and profanity, far worse than the dry-rot that
gnawed at the timbers of the old Hall; that roughness and sordidness
which had gathered over the once promising character, far sadder to
behold than the mould and the dust that dimmed the ancestral
grandeur;--were there not moral instruments available for the cure of
the one, as there were artisan's tools able to remove all traces of the
other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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