Modern literature: a novel, Volume 1 (of 3)Bisset, Robert
General
Modern literature: a novel, Volume 1 (of 3)
Bisset, Robert
England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction
It was now the latter end of October, and the season being wet, the
autumnal rains had swelled brooks into rivers, when our soldier, in
his way to the parsonage, perceiving the young lady in a shrubbery by
the summer-house before mentioned, hastened to join her, over a long
plank which connected the banks of a rivulet, that passed the lower
walks of their pleasure-ground, instead of taking a circuit of thirty
yards to a regular bridge. The place where he was to cross being a
small level at the bottom of a steep hill, formed a kind of pond,
supplied by the cascade from the upper ground, and now deepened by the
great accumulation of water. The plank being slippery, and Hamilton
not having completely recovered the dextrous command of his limb, he
tumbled into the pool and entirely disappeared. Mr. Wentbridge, who
was in a distant part of the shrubbery, aroused by a single shriek,
ran to the spot whence the voice had issued, and found his daughter
in a swoon, whence being by his efforts recovered, she awoke only to
misery, and called on the name of Hamilton, in the wildest phrenzy
of despairing love. The worthy clergyman, who had before suspected
the passion of his daughter, was now apprehensive that some dreadful
disaster had befallen its object. He had been able to remove Eliza
to a mossy bench, and she was still, in terms of the most endearing
affection, deploring the beloved youth; when, descending from the
summer-house, he presented himself safe and sound, though all dropping
with wet. Our Major had been stunned by the sudden plunge, but soon
recovering had swam to the bottom of the bank, and waded farther down,
where he saw the ascent was more practicable, and, missing the nearest
path, had through the labyrinth of a grove found a difficulty in
regaining a view of the summer-house, to which the way was entangled
by copse and briars, and hence so much time had elapsed before his
return. He with rapture heard his Eliza bewailing his fate. When
she was so far recovered as to be conscious of his return, first
her astonishment, her anxious doubts, and lastly her joy, gave her
lover the conviction which he had so eagerly desired to receive. The
considerate care of the father hastened him away to the comforts of
a fire and dry clothes, before he would suffer him to explain the
circumstances of his escape to the young lady, who still appeared to
entertain an unsettled belief of the reality.
In an hour Hamilton completely readjusted, and secure from every
disagreeable effect of this involuntary cold bath, was alive only to
the delightful sensations which its effects had produced.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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