Self-control: A Novel

by Mary Brunton

'As soon might I govern the wind,' cried Hargrave, vehemently,—'as soon resist the fires of Heaven. And why attempt to govern it?'

'Because,' answered Laura, 'it is weak, it is sinful, to submit unresisting to the bondage of an imperious passion.'

'Would that you too would submit unresisting to its bondage!' said Hargrave, delighted to have made her once more serious. 'But if this passion is sinful,' continued he, 'my reformation rests with you alone. Put a period to my lingering trial. Consent to be mine, and hush all these tumults to rest.'

'Take care how you furnish me with arguments against yourself,' returned Laura, laughing. 'Would it be my interest, think you, to lull all these transports to such profound repose?'

'Be serious Laura, I implore you. Well do you know that my love can end only with my existence, but I should no longer be distracted with these tumultuous hopes and fears if—' 'Oh,' cried Laura, interrupting him, 'hope is too pleasing a companion for you to wish to part with that; and,' added she, a smile and a blush contending upon her cheek, 'I begin to believe that your fears are not very troublesome.' 'Ah Laura,' said Hargrave sorrowfully, 'you know not what you say. There are moments when I feel as if you were already lost to me—and the bare thought is distraction. Oh if you have pity for real suffering,' continued he, dropping on his knees, 'save me from the dread of losing you; forget the hour of madness in which I offended you. Restore to me the time when you owned that I was dear to you. Be yet more generous, and give me immediate, unalienable right to your love.'

'You forget, Colonel Hargrave,' said Laura, again taking sanctuary in an appearance of coldness; 'you forget that six months ago I fixed two years of rectitude as the test of your repentance, and that you were then satisfied with my decision.'

'I would then have blessed you for any sentence that left me a hope, however distant; but now the time when I may claim your promise seems at such a hopeless distance—Oh Laura, let me but prevail with you; and I will bind myself by the most solemn oaths to a life of unsullied purity.'

'No oaths,' replied Laura with solemnity, 'can strengthen the ties that already bind you to a life of purity. That you are of noble rank, calls you to be an example to others; and the yet higher distinction of an immortal spirit bids you strive after virtues that may never meet the eye of man. Only convince me that such are the objects of your ambition, and I shall no longer fear to trust with you my improvement and my happiness.'

As she spoke unusual animation sparkled in her eyes, and tinged her delicate cheek with brighter colouring. 'Lovely, lovely creature!' cried Hargrave, in transport, 'give but thyself to these fond arms, and may Heaven forsake me if I strive not to make thee blest beyond the sweetest dreams of youthful fancy.'

'Alas!' said Laura, 'even your affection would fail to bless a heart conscious of acting wrong.'