Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3)Brown, Charles Brockden
History
Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3)
Brown, Charles Brockden
Gothic fiction; Philadelphia (Pa.) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
These were evils to be repaired as far as it was possible. Nothing now
remained but to procure a passage to Europe. For this end diligent
inquiries were immediately set on foot. A vessel was found, which, in a
few weeks, would set out upon the voyage. Having bespoken a conveyance,
it was incumbent on me to sustain with patience the unwelcome delay.
Meanwhile, my mind, delivered from the dejection and perplexities that
lately haunted it, was capable of some attention to surrounding objects.
I marked the peculiarities of manners and language in my new abode, and
studied the effects which a political and religious system so opposite
to that with which I had conversed in Italy and Switzerland had
produced. I found that the difference between Europe and America lay
chiefly in this:--that, in the former, all things tended to extremes,
whereas, in the latter, all things tended to the same level. Genius, and
virtue, and happiness, on these shores, were distinguished by a sort of
mediocrity. Conditions were less unequal, and men were strangers to the
heights of enjoyment and the depths of misery to which the inhabitants
of Europe are accustomed.
I received friendly notice and hospitable treatment from the Ridgeleys.
These people were mercantile and plodding in their habits. I found in
their social circle little exercise for the sympathies of my heart, and
willingly accepted their aid to enlarge the sphere of my observation.
About a week before my intended embarkation, and when suitable
preparation had been made for that event, a lady arrived in town, who
was cousin to my Constantia. She had frequently been mentioned in
favourable terms in my hearing. She had passed her life in a rural
abode with her father, who cultivated his own domain, lying forty miles
from Baltimore.
On an offer being made to introduce us to each other, I consented to
know one whose chief recommendation in my eyes consisted in her affinity
to Constantia Dudley. I found an artless and attractive female,
unpolished and undepraved by much intercourse with mankind. At first
sight, I was powerfully struck by the resemblance of her features to
those of my friend, which sufficiently denoted their connection with a
common stock.
The first interview afforded mutual satisfaction. On our second meeting,
discourse insensibly led to the mention of Miss Dudley, and of the
design which had brought me to America. She was deeply affected by the
earnestness with which I expatiated on her cousin's merits, and by the
proofs which my conduct had given of unlimited attachment.
I dwelt immediately on the measures which I had hitherto ineffectually
pursued to trace her footsteps, and detailed the grounds of my present
belief that we should meet in London. During this recital, my companion
sighed and wept. When I finished my tale, her tears, instead of ceasing,
flowed with new vehemence. This appearance excited some surprise, and I
ventured to ask the cause of her grief.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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