“Never more to see her—never more to hear of her! From her I need not expect. She dares not write. No doubt an embargo has been laid upon that. Parental authority forbids it.
“And I dare not write to her! If I did, no doubt, by the same parental authority, my epistle would be intercepted—still further compromising her—still further debarring the chance of a reconciliation with her father!
“I dare not do it—I should not!
“Why should I not? Is it not after all but a false sentiment of chivalry?
“And am I not false to myself—to her? What authority over the heart is higher than its own inclining? In the disposal of the hand, this, and this alone, should be consulted. Who has the right to interpose between two hearts mutually loving? To forbid their mutual happiness?
“The parent claims such right, and too often exercises it! It may be a wise control; but is it a just one?
“And there are times, too, when it may not be wisdom, but madness.
“O pride of rank! how much happiness has been left unachieved through thy interference—how many hearts sacrificed on the shrine of thy hollow pretensions!
“Blanche! Blanche! It is hard to think there is a barrier between us, that can never be broken down! An obstruction that no merit of mine, no struggle, no triumph, no probation, can remove! It is hard! hard!
“And even should I succeed in achieving such triumph, it might be too late? The heart I have now might then be another’s?”