The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 1 of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 1 of 3)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
By the shaded light of the kerosene lamp, which stood upon the
writing-table, Griswold read this paper carefully through; then laying
it down before him, fell into a train of thought. 'It looks innocent
enough,' he said; 'it might be what I shall tell her it is, when I
put into her hand--a mere paper on business, to be read at a future
time--and yet to think how all-powerful it will be, or ought to be, in
the event of anything happening to me. To be read at some future time,
eh! I think I can see the scene which will occur at that future time
plainly enough; what a commotion there would be in Wall-street, what
an anxiety amongst a certain set to know whether I had carried out the
commission with which I had been intrusted, before I died. The
commission with which I have been intrusted, that is what they would
be anxious about--not me, their agent; only poor Helen would think of
me. What she said just now about her little regard for wealth was true
enough. If the enterprise succeeded, she would be rich as an empress;
if it failed, she would have comparatively little to live upon; but in
neither case would she care much, I flatter myself, if I were gone.
The joys or the woes of life would affect her equally little if I were
not there to share them with her. What a wretchedly gloomy train of
thought I have fallen into!' he muttered, half aloud, striking his
hand upon the desk. 'Hundreds of men go to and return from Europe
every week; it is the boast of the Cunard Company that they have never
lost a passenger, and yet here am I, in rude health and strength,
picturing to myself what is to happen after my immediately approaching
death. Helen must have innoculated me with a touch of her
presentiment; however, I will shake it off at once. I will finish this
letter of instructions, for it is better for her in any contingency to
know exactly how she stands, and then I will get some rest, of which I
fancy I am more than usually in need.'
He drew the paper towards him again, and bending over the desk
commenced writing earnestly. From time to time he paused in his
occupation and stared earnestly before him, as though weighing certain
matters in his mind before committing his thoughts to paper. At
length, after about ten minutes' work, he came to the end of his task;
and, having folded the letter, placed it into an envelope, and was
about to return it to the drawer, when he suddenly stopped.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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