Tales of My Time, Vol. 1 (of 3): Who Is She?Scargill, William Pitt
General
Tales of My Time, Vol. 1 (of 3): Who Is She?
Scargill, William Pitt
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
This was a new style of dialogue at Henbury, and exceedingly shocked
the gentle Zorilda; who, endeavouring to forget her own anxieties as
much as possible, tried every effort in her power to soften these
asperities and mediate between the belligerent parties, who never had
quarrelled till now, when they seemed upon the eve of attaining the
grand object of their common wishes.
"How strange the effect of what the world calls prosperity!" exclaimed
this child of nature, when relieved from the irksome society of those
with whom it was her lot to drag the heavy hours. "Who would desire to
possess a few ideal distinctions, brief as shadowy, at the expense of
all that is dear to the heart?"
Zorilda was debarred the luxury, not denied to many in this age, of
communicating her thoughts to a distant friend. The power of purchasing
this gratification was more than she could command, so entire was her
dependence; and even if it had been permitted her to correspond with
Mrs. Gordon, the necessity of shewing every line which she either wrote
or received, would have neutralized the privilege.
"Let me thank God," said she, "that I have still the power of thought;
still the blessed boon of self-communion left; and, oh may I use the
gift to profit! examine my heart, probe its most secret recesses, and
cultivate resignation to the will of Him who sees it good that I should
be thus severely tried!"
When aspirations such as these would escape her lips, a bright gleam of
hope sometimes succeeded, and painted Algernon in all the bloom of
youthful joy, returning to the home of his happy childhood; called
thither to embellish a higher sphere, elate with glad prospects, and
placed in possession of power to shed happiness in every smile. Spite
of every effort to repress the fond dreams of imagination, they would
sometimes, too, indulge in weaving a golden future for herself. If
Algernon had ceased to love, why did his letters still breathe the
honied accents of a sentiment which he might pretend to forget? Was it
generous to doubt his truth because his words were few? Was it
reasonable to expect more lavish demonstration of an attachment so
constrained by circumstances? Arrived at full age, and raised to
dignity and independence, might he not prevail with his parents to
enter into his views?
Thoughts such as these were too welcome not to force their way, and if
Zorilda had inclination, she wanted strength to banish them always from
her mind. A secret feeling would even picture the pleased surprise with
which Algernon would hear her voice, already flexible and melodious,
now improved by science and cultivation, and accompanied by the "mellow
minstrelsy" of a Spanish guitar, on which Mrs. Gordon's tasteful
tuition had rendered her a proficient.
How lovely was the expression of that eloquent eye! How touching the
sounds which flowed from those ruby lips when hope's delightful
inspirations came o'er her mind,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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