The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5) — John Shaqi
The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)Burney, Fanny
History
The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)
Burney, Fanny
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Refugees -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Refugees -- Fiction; War stories
The bosom of Juliet now swelled and heaved high, with tumultuous
distress and alarm, and her cheeks were dyed with the crimson tint of
conscious shame; while Elinor, turning pale, dropt her head upon the
pillow of the sofa, and sighed deeply for a moment in silence.
Recovering then, 'This, at least,' she said, 'is explicit; let it be
final! Your influence is not disguised; use it, Ellis, to snatch me from
the deplorable buffoonery of running about the world--not like death
after the lady, but the lady after death! Assure yourselves that you
will never devise any stratagem that will turn me from my purpose;
though you may render ridiculous in its execution, what in its
conception was sublime. Happiness such as yours, Ellis, ought to be
above all narrow malignity. You ought to be proud, Ellis, voluntarily to
serve her whom involuntarily you have ruined!'
Juliet was beginning some protestations of kindness; but Elinor,
interrupting her, said, 'I can give credit only to action. I must have a
conference; but it is not to talk of myself;--nor of you; nor even of
Harleigh. No! the soft moment of indulgence to my feelings is at an end!
When I allowed my heart that delicious expansion; when I abandoned it to
nature, and permitted it those open effusions of tenderness, I thought
my dissolution at hand, and meant but to snatch a few last precious
minutes of extacy from everlasting annihilation! but these endless
delays, these eternal procrastinations, make me appear so unmeaning an
idiot, even to myself, that, for the remnant of my doleful ditty, I must
resist every natural wish; and plod on, till I plod off, with the stiff
and stupid decorum of a starched old maid of half a century. Procure me,
however, this definitive conference. It is upon no point of the old
story, I promise you. You cannot be more tired of that than I am
ashamed. 'Tis simply an earnest curiosity to know the pure, unadulterate
thoughts of Harleigh upon death and immortality. I have applied to him,
fruitlessly, myself; he inexorably refers me to some old canonicals;
without considering that it is vain to ask for guides to shew us a road,
before we are convinced, or at least persuaded, that it will lead us to
some given spot. Let him but make clear, that 'tis his own opinion that
death does not sink us to nothing; let him but satisfy me, that he does
not turn me over to others, only because he thinks as I think himself,
and has not the courage to avow it;--and then, in return, I may suffer
him to send to me some one of his black robed tribe, to harangue me
about here and hereafter.'
All contestation on the part of Juliet, was but irritating; she was
forced upon her commission, and compelled solemnly to promise, that she
would return with Harleigh, and be present at the conference.
CHAPTER LXIII
With unsteady footsteps, and covered with blushes, Juliet repaired to
the parlour, where Harleigh, with delighted, yet trembling impatience,
was awaiting her arrival.
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