In furthest Ind

by Sydney C. Grier

Thus spake the voice of my own desires, and so prone are we to erect our unruly fancies into virtues, that I waxed exceeding hot and wrathful when I considered the case of the luckless damsel thus bound unwillingly to me, and felt that ’twould be to wrong her grievously did I lack the courage to break the chain that held us. Nor was this all, for it seemed to me that I had also in my keeping the happiness of Madam Heliodora, which I must certainly ruin if I should leave her for to carry out my contract with Dorothy. And thus did I, poor foolish coxcomb! labour to excuse myself and bring salve to my conscience, weighing and judging these matters in my mind as though the lives of all around me had hung upon my nod, and they themselves should be fortunate or miserable according as my high will and pleasure should decree. Never once did I consider that in all this I was wronging not only my poor cousin, whose faithful heart had never turned from me to any other, but also that noble lady, who, if she had loved me even as I hoped, would nevertheless have sacrificed herself and me, without relenting, to the duty that bound me.

Reasoning with myself then in this wise, I did put off from day to day the deciding concerning my lord marquis his offer, considering always that I would make up my mind to-morrow, until it so happened that my resolve was fixed without my intending it by a certain word of my lord’s. For coming one day into his lordship’s closet, whither he had sent for me to attend upon him, I found with him Father Simon, his chaplain. And they being busied in discourse, when first I tapped upon the door they did not heed me, and I heard Father Simon say—

“Hath your lordship considered that by your schemes you may be endangering the happiness of my lady your daughter?”

To whom his lordship answered coolly enough—

“My daughter is able to take good care of herself and her happiness, father, I thank you,” and I then knocking the second time, he bid me enter. But I was much exercised in my mind concerning that I had heard, wondering whether his lordship was so secure of Madam Heliodora’s indifferency towards me that he believed he might safely lure me on by hopes of winning her, such as she would refuse to see realised. But (thought I), if this be my lord’s mind, I know more touching the matter than he, for all his reading of faces, for he, it is evident, han’t observed those delicious tokens of tears and blushes and the like, that have revealed to me my lady’s heart. And thus I was now moved also with the desire to approve myself wiser in reading thoughts than my lord, with all his statecraft, and this, coming with all those other considerations I have mentioned, brought me to decide that at the end of the fortnight, which was now near at hand, I would accept of my lord’s offer.

Looking back now on that time, I can’t conceive how my presumption and folly should ever have blinded me to such a degree; but so secure and confident was I, that I writ after this a letter to my father, hinting not obscurely at my hopes and expectations, and yet not in so many words breaking off my contract with Dorothy, but leaving her rather to judge by implication that it was at an end. And this letter, which they could not, as I knew, misinterpret, I sent by a messenger that my lord was about despatching to Maderas, whence it might be sent to England. And having thus, as I conceived, eased my conscience by declaring my intentions of that I was about to do, I waited, in much excitement and perturbation of mind, for the fortnight to end. And though this space of time seemed prodigiously slow in passing, yet it came to an end at last, and on its final night I went to bed so oppressed with the thoughts of my coming glory and happiness as that I could scarce compose myself to sleep.

Now on this night it was that there come to me a most strange dream or apparition, the particulars whereof (lest any should gainsay ’em), I did set down in writing at the time, and do now record for the examination and explication of wiser men than I. For as I tossed and tumbled upon my bed, in a state betwixt sleeping and waking, I saw in the chamber my little cousin Dorothy, grown into a tall and goodly woman, and wearing a white wrapping-gown and a cap guarded with bone lace, her countenance bearing an air of extreme concern. At whose appearing I did experience at the first a feeling of much comfort, but was immediately seized with a fit of great trembling, remembering the treachery and dishonour that I had meditated against her. And she did stretch forth both her hands to me, as one entreating, but spake no word. To whom I, repenting of my shameful intention, did call with a lamentable voice, saying—

“Help me, good cousin, if indeed it be you, for I am in a grievous strait.”

And she, with an air of great seriousness, cried sharply unto me—

“Be true, Cousin Ned; oh, be true!” and forthwith vanished.