Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Self-control -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
None but they who have made the melancholy experiment, can tell how
cheerless is the labour of supporting the spirit that will make no
effort to sustain itself, of soliciting the languid smile, offering the
rejected amusement, or striving, with vain ingenuity, to enliven the
oft-repulsed conversation. They only know who have tried it, what it is
to resist contagious depression--to struggle against the effects of the
complaining voice, the languid motion, the hopeless aspect; what it is
to suppress the sympathetic sigh, and restrain the little sally of
impatience, so natural to those whose labours are incessant, yet
unavailing. Such were the tasks that Laura voluntarily prescribed to
herself. Incited by affection, and by strong sense of duty, she soothed
the fretful humour, prompted the reluctant exertion, fanned the expiring
hope, and seized the most favourable moment to soften by feminine
tenderness, or exhilarate by youthful gaiety.
Many motives may lead to one great effort of virtue. The hope of reward,
the desire of approbation, a sense of right, the natural benevolence
which still affords a faint trait of the image in which man was made,
all, or any of these, may produce single, or even oft-repeated acts
deserving of praise; but one principle alone can lead to virtuous
exertions persevering and unremitting though without success. That
principle was Laura's; and even while her endeavours seemed unavailing,
she was content to employ all her powers in the task selected for her by
the bestower of them.
Montreville often reproached himself for the untimely burden which he
was laying on the young heart of his daughter; but he could make no
effort to lighten it, and self-reproach served only to embitter the
spirit which it failed of stimulating to exertion. Fretful and
impatient, yet conscious of his injustice, and unwilling that Laura
should observe it, he would often dismiss her from her attendance, and
spend whole hours in solitary gloom. These hours Laura devoted to her
picture, stealing between whiles, on tiptoe, to the door of her father's
apartment, to listen whether he was stirring; and sometimes venturing to
knock gently for admittance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account