The Redemption of David CorsonGoss, Charles Frederic
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The Redemption of David Corson
Goss, Charles Frederic
Society of Friends -- Fiction
He did not dare communicate this story even to his sister; for if she
knew nothing he feared to poison her existence by telling her, and if
she knew all he had not the courage to listen to the sequel. Perhaps no
other experience in life produces a more profound shock than a discovery
like that upon which David had so suddenly stumbled. It leads to despair
or to melancholy, and many a life of highest promise has been suddenly
wrecked by it. While he brooded over this mystery the days slipped past
the young mystic almost unnoted; he wandered about the farm, passing
from one fit of abstraction into another, doing nothing, saying nothing,
thinking everything.
The world was shrouded in a gloom through whose shifting mists a single
star shone now and then, emitting a brilliant and dazzling ray. It was
the figure of a gypsy.
In his heavy, aching heart thoughts of her alone aroused an emotion of
joy. As other objects lost their power to attract or charm, she more and
more filled all his horizon.
Her name was whispered by each passing breeze. It was syllabled by every
singing bird. The old clock ticked it on the stairway. The hoofs of his
horse which he rode recklessly over the country uttered it to the hard
roads on which they fell--"Pepeeta, Pepeeta, Pepeeta."
Whenever he really tried to banish the temptations which haunted his
soul, they always returned to the swept and garnished chamber bringing
with them seven spirits worse than themselves.
He tried to look forward to the future with hope. But how can a man hope
for harvests, when all his seed corn has been destroyed? If his father
was bad, what hope was there that he could be better?
He made innumerable resolves to take up the duties of life where he had
laid them down, but they were all like birds which die in the nest where
they are born.
Pepeeta was drawing him irresistibly to herself; he was like a man in
the outer circle of a vortex, of which she was the center. The touch of
her soft hand which he could still feel, the farewell glance of eyes
which still glowed before his imagination, attracted him like a powerful
magnet. It was true that he did not know where she was; but he felt that
he could find her in the uttermost parts of the earth by yielding
himself to the impulse which she had awakened in his heart.
"A dark veil of mystery hangs over my past. My present is full of misery
and unrest. I will see if the future has any joys in store for me," he
said to himself at the close of one of his restless days.
Without so much as a word of farewell, he crept out of the house in the
gathering dusk, and started in pursuit of the bright object that floated
like a will-o'-the-wisp before his inner eye.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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