He went from me to the window, where his eyes were for some time
rivetted
upon the direction of the letter, though his hand shook so violently
he could hardly hold it. Then, bringing it to me, “Open it,"-cried
he,-“for I cannot!”
I had myself hardly strength to obey him: but when I had, he took
it back,
and walked hastily up and down the room, as if dreading to read it. At
length, turning to me, “Do you know,” cried he, “its contents?”
“No, Sir,” answered I, “it has never been unsealed.”
He then again went to the window, and began reading. Having hastily
run it
over, he cast up his eyes with a look of desperation; the letter fell
from his hand, and he exclaimed, “Yes! thou art sainted!-thou art
blessed!-and I am cursed for ever!” He continued some time fixed in
this melancholy position; after which, casting himself with violence
upon the ground, “Oh wretch,” cried he, “unworthy life and light,
in what dungeon canst thou hide thy head?”
I could restrain myself no longer; I rose and went to him; I did
not dare
speak; but, with pity and concern unutterable, I wept and hung
over him.
Soon after, starting up, he again seized the letter, exclaiming,
“Acknowledge
thee, Caroline!-yes, with my heart’s best blood would I acknowledge
thee!-Oh that thou could’st witness the agony of my soul!-Ten thousand
daggers could not have wounded me like this letter!”
Then, after again reading it, “Evelina,” he cried, “she charges me
to receive
thee;-wilt thou, in obedience to her will, own for thy father the
destroyer of thy mother?”
What a dreadful question!-I shuddered, but could not speak.
“To clear her fame, and receive her child,” continued he, looking
stedfastly
at the letter, “are the conditions upon which she leaves me her
forgiveness: her fame I have already cleared;-and Oh, how willingly
would I take her child to my bosom, fold her to my heart,-call upon
her to mitigate my anguish, and pour the balm of comfort on my wounds,
were I not conscious I deserve not to receive it, and that all my
affliction is the result of my own guilt!”
It was in vain I attempted to speak; horror and grief took from me
all power
of utterance.