The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)Sherer, Moyle
History
The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Sherer, Moyle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
Meanwhile Francis Heywood, in ignorance of the sad condition of his
cousin Katharine, endured all the agony of a suspicion that he was at
once neglected and scorned by her who had been the vision of his
lonely hours of labour in a remote plantation, and who, as the very
star of his destiny, had led him back again to the land in which she
dwelt, as a land of promise. Liberty was his watchword; and it is true
that when letters spoke so confidently of a civil war as inevitable,
he obtained his father’s permission to return to England, that he
might join his patriotic countrymen in their contention for the rights
of civil and religious liberty. Nor was this a mere pretext for escape
from the tame drudgery of colonial life,--the cause of freedom was
sacred in his sight, and was precious to his heart. He came to draw
the sword, and bare his bosom in the battle. He had a life to offer on
the altar of duty, and he joyously brought the willing sacrifice; but
yet there lay at the bottom of his heart one bright, one good hope. He
might be lifted, by the fortunes of this war, to renown, to rank, to
fortune; he might survive all its chances; he might see peace and
happiness restored:--the present relations between himself and his
wealthy uncle might be greatly altered; the old prejudices against him
might at last give way, and the crowning reward of all his honours and
his fortunes might be the hand of Katharine. This was his dream by
day--this was his dream by night:--like some chaste and solemn star,
seen brightly shining in solitary and calm glory at the extremity of a
narrow and gloomy valley, darkened by the shadows of lofty mountains,
so the majestic loveliness of his cousin Katharine, irradiated by all
her virtues, shone out beyond the cloudy path of blood and peril, as
the blissful end and rest of all his labours.
He had not passed a night of such rapture since he last parted from
his cousin as that on which he reached Milverton, and the whole of
which he mused away within sight of the mansion that contained the
noble object of his attachment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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