The Cavaliers of Virginia, vol. 1 of 2: or, The Recluse of Jamestown; An historical romance of the Old DominionCaruthers, William Alexander
History
The Cavaliers of Virginia, vol. 1 of 2: or, The Recluse of Jamestown; An historical romance of the Old Dominion
Caruthers, William Alexander
Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
As these convictions flashed upon her mind, they called up firm and
resolute determinations, even in her gentle bosom! she was stung into
resistance by the tyrannical and high handed measures of her uncle, and
resolved to resist upon the threshold. Bacon's physical frame was not so
steady, or his nerves in his present mood so well strung by high
resolves of independent action. He too saw by whom the blow was aimed,
and upon whose head it would principally fall, and he trembled for the
consequences to his gentle companion. He did not know the strength of
her independent mind, and the endurance and fortitude with which she
would carry her purposes into execution. He knew her to be gentle and
kind and superlatively lovely, but as yet she had endured no
trials,--her courage and fortitude had been put to no test. The very
amiable qualities which had won his affections, served only to increase
his doubts as to her capacity to resist and endure what he too plainly
saw awaited her. He had yet to learn that these are almost always found
united in the female bosom with a signal power of steady and calm
resistance to oppression. To this resolution had Virginia arrived, when
his more turbulent and masculine emotions burst from his tongue as he
seized her hand, "Swear to me, Virginia, before high Heaven, that you
will never marry this proud heir of wealth, and worldly honours."
"Upon one Condition."
"Name it! if it is possible, it is done!"
"That you from this moment give up all idea of a meeting with Frank
Beverly, which I know has only thus long been delayed by your wounds and
illness." He dropped her hand and writhed upon his seat in agony--the
cold perspiration bursting from his pale forehead, as he covered it
with his hands. But presently standing up he exclaimed, "Great God! and
can you ask this of me, Virginia? Is my honour of so little value to
you, that you can ask me to betray it? You heard the insult! You saw the
dagger aimed in the dark! Ay, and saw it strike upon a bare and wounded
nerve! Shall I not resist? Is an assassin to thrust the point of his
steel into the very apple of my eye, and meet with no resistance?
Instinct itself would strike back the cowardly blow. Another might
forego the measure of his revenge for an ordinary insult, but placed as
I am, an elevated mark for impertinence and malignity to shoot at, with
nothing but my single arm to defend me; no line of noble and heroic
ancestors to support my pretensions, and my rank in the community; no
living relations to give the lie to his calumnies! Standing alone amidst
a host of powerful enemies, shall I be stricken down by a cowardly
maligner, and never turn to strike one blow for my good name, my
mother's honour, my father's memory, and my own standing in society? No,
no, Virginia; you cannot, you will not, require me to promise this. One
evidence I must and will give to the calumniator, that I come of no
churl's blood."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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