?«, Charlotte, 1816-1855 / 2008-09-23 00:00:00
Steam, trade, machinery had long banished from it all romance and
seclusion. At a distance of five miles, a valley, opening
between the low hills, held in its cups the great town of X----.
A dense, permanent vapour brooded over this locality--there lay
Edward's "Concern."
I forced my eye to scrutinize this prospect, I forced my mind to
dwell on it for a time, and when I found that it communicated no
pleasurable emotion to my heart--that it stirred in me none of
the hopes a man ought to feel, when he sees laid before him the
scene of his life's career--I said to myself, "William, you are a
rebel against circumstances; you are a fool, and know not what
you want; you have chosen trade and you shall be a tradesman.
Look!" I continued mentally--"Look at the sooty smoke in that
hollow, and know that there is your post! There you cannot dream,
you cannot speculate and theorize--there you shall out and
work!"
Thus self-schooled, I returned to the house. My brother was in
the breakfast-room. I met him collectedly--I could not meet him
cheerfully; he was standing on the rug, his back to the fire--how
much did I read in the expression of his eye as my glance
encountered his, when I advanced to bid him good morning; how
much that was contradictory to my nature! He said "Good morning"
abruptly and nodded, and then he snatched, rather than took, a
newspaper from the table, and began to read it with the air of a
master who seizes a pretext to escape the bore of conversing with
an underling.
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