A new light came to the
dungeon of Ralph Colleton, in the persons of his uncle and cousin Edith,
whom his letters, at his first arrest, had apprized of his situation.
They knew that situation only in part, however; and the first intimation
of his doom was that which he himself gave them.
The meeting was full of a painful pleasure. The youth himself was
firm--muscle and mind all over; but deeply did his uncle reproach
himself for his precipitation and sternness, and the grief of Edith,
like all deep grief, was dumb, and had no expression. There was but the
sign of wo--of wo inexpressible--in the ashy lip, the glazed, the
tearless and half-wandering eye, and the convulsive shiver, that at
intervals shook her whole frame, like strong and sudden gusts among the
foliage. The youth, if he had any at such an hour, spared his
reproaches. He narrated in plain and unexaggerated language, as if
engaged in the merest narration of commonplace, all the circumstances of
his trial. He pointed out the difficulties of his situation, to his mind
insuperable, and strove to prepare the minds of those who heard, for the
final and saddest trial of all, even as his own mind was prepared.
Pages:
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752