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Page 25
"Every individual has its own peculiar trials; and anguish, in one shape
or other, visits every heart. Sensibility produces flights of virtue;
and not curbed by reason, is on the brink of vice talking, and even
thinking of virtue.
"Christianity can only afford just principles to govern the wayward
feelings and impulses of the heart: every good disposition runs wild, if
not transplanted into this soil; but how hard is it to keep the heart
diligently, though convinced that the issues of life depend on it.
"It is very difficult to discipline the mind of a thinker, or reconcile
him to the weakness, the inconsistency of his understanding; and a
still more laborious task for him to conquer his passions, and learn to
seek content, instead of happiness. Good dispositions, and virtuous
propensities, without the light of the Gospel, produce eccentric
characters: comet-like, they are always in extremes; while revelation
resembles the laws of attraction, and produces uniformity; but too often
is the attraction feeble; and the light so obscured by passion, as to
force the bewildered soul to fly into void space, and wander in
confusion."
CHAP. XXV.
A few mornings after, as Mary was sitting ruminating, harassed by
perplexing thoughts, and fears, a letter was delivered to her: the
servant waited for an answer. Her heart palpitated; it was from Henry;
she held it some time in her hand, then tore it open; it was not a long
one; and only contained an account of a relapse, which prevented his
sailing in the first packet, as he had intended. Some tender enquiries
were added, concerning her health, and state of mind; but they were
expressed in rather a formal style: it vexed her, and the more so, as it
stopped the current of affection, which the account of his arrival and
illness had made flow to her heart--it ceased to beat for a moment--she
read the passage over again; but could not tell what she was hurt
by--only that it did not answer the expectations of her affection. She
wrote a laconic, incoherent note in return, allowing him to call on her
the next day--he had requested permission at the conclusion of his
letter.
Her mind was then painfully active; she could not read or walk; she
tried to fly from herself, to forget the long hours that were yet to run
before to-morrow could arrive: she knew not what time he would come;
certainly in the morning, she concluded; the morning then was anxiously
wished for; and every wish produced a sigh, that arose from expectation
on the stretch, damped by fear and vain regret.
To beguile the tedious time, Henry's favorite tunes were sung; the books
they read together turned over; and the short epistle read at least a
hundred times.--Any one who had seen her, would have supposed that she
was trying to decypher Chinese characters.
After a sleepless night, she hailed the tardy day, watched the rising
sun, and then listened for every footstep, and started if she heard the
street door opened. At last he came, and she who had been counting the
hours, and doubting whether the earth moved, would gladly have escaped
the approaching interview.
With an unequal, irresolute pace, she went to meet him; but when she
beheld his emaciated countenance, all the tenderness, which the
formality of his letter had damped, returned, and a mournful
presentiment stilled the internal conflict. She caught his hand, and
looking wistfully at him, exclaimed, "Indeed, you are not well!"
"I am very far from well; but it matters not," added he with a smile of
resignation; "my native air may work wonders, and besides, my mother is
a tender nurse, and I shall sometimes see thee."
Mary felt for the first time in her life, envy; she wished
involuntarily, that all the comfort he received should be from her. She
enquired about the symptoms of his disorder; and heard that he had been
very ill; she hastily drove away the fears, that former dear bought
experience suggested: and again and again did she repeat, that she was
sure he would soon recover. She would then look in his face, to see if
he assented, and ask more questions to the same purport. She tried to
avoid speaking of herself, and Henry left her, with, a promise of
visiting her the next day.
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