"But one painful scene and hour I was yet compelled to endure the

night before our departure. Mr. Edgerton came to play his flute

under our window. I say Mr. Edgerton, but it was only by a sort

of instinct that I fixed upon him as the musician. Perhaps it was

because I knew not what other person to suspect. Frequently, before

this night, had I heard this music; but on this occasion he seemed

to have approached more nearly to the dwelling; and, indeed, I finally

discovered that he was actually beneath the China-tree that stood

on the south front of the cottage. I was asleep when the music

began. He must have been playing for some time before I awakened.

How I was awakened I know not; but something disturbed me, and I

then saw you about to leave the room stealthily. I heard your feet

upon the stairs, and in the next moment I discovered one of your

pistols lying upon the window-sill, just beneath my eyes. This

alarmed me; a thousand apprehensions rushed into my brain; all the

suggestions of strife and bloodshed which my mother had ever told

me, filled my mind; and without knowing exactly what I did or said,

I called out to the musician to fly with all possible speed. He

did so; and after a delay which was to me one of the most cruel

apprehension, you returned in safety. Whether you suspected, and

what, I could not conjecture; but if you had any suspicions of

me, yon did not seem to entertain any of him, for you spoke of him

afterward with the same warm tone of friendship as before.

"That something in my conduct had not pleased you, I could see from

your deportment as we travelled the next morning. You were sad,

and very silent and abstracted. This disappeared, however, and, day

by day, my happiness, my hope, my confidence in you, in myself, in

all things, increased--and I felt assured of realizing that perfect

idea of felicity which I proposed to myself from the moment when

you declared your purpose to emigrate. Were we not happy, husband--so

happy at M----, for weeks, for months--always, morning, noon, and

night--until the reappearance of this false friend of yours? Then,

it seemed to me as if everything changed. Then, that other friend

of yours--who, though he never treated me with aught but respect,

I yet can call no friend of mine--Mr. Kingsley, drew you away

again from your home--carried you with him to his haunts--detained

you late and long, by night and day--and I was left once more

exposed to the free and frequent familiarity of Mr. Edgerton. He

renewed his former habits; his looks were more presuming, and his

attentions more direct and loathsome than ever. More than once

I strove to speak with you on this hateful subject; but it was so

shocking, and you were so fond of him, and I still had my fears! At

length, moved by compassion, you brought him to our house. Blind

and devoted to him--with a blindness and devotion beyond that which

the noblest friendship would deserve, but which renders tenfold

more hateful the dishonest and treacherous person upon whom it is

thrown away--you command me to meet him with kindness--to tend his

bed of sickness--to soothe his moments of sadness and despondency--to

expose myself to his insolence!




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