“Is it your purpose to go home?”
“I have written to my father for permission to do so,” pointing to a letter which lay on the table. “It is useless for me to stay here. When she is gone, I shall have no motive to study. I have desired distinction for her sake. I have lived for her alone.”
Temple strove to think of some topic of consolation which he could appropriately present. He knew his friend too well to suggest any thing which did not fully meet his case. He was constrained to leave him to his own reflections. Assuring him of his sympathy, and exhorting him to seek repose, he withdrew to his own apartment.
Carlton remained in his seat until his lamp was paled by the morning light. He then vainly sought an hour of repose; then rose, and having obtained leave of absence, seated himself in the morning stage-coach, and was borne over the hills and plains toward his native village.
The forests were putting on the scarlet and gold of autumn; but he saw not their beauty. He was like the shipwrecked mariner whose eye is fixed upon the bark which is fast receding in the distance. He was well nigh insensible to every thing around him.
His father was surprised and alarmed as the coach drew up at the door, and his son alighted. The pale and anxious countenance of the son had no tendency to dispel the fears which his sudden appearance had occasioned. To the hurried inquiries made respecting his health, he gave satisfactory replies, and then added:
“I came home solely on account of Miss Warren. Have you heard from her to-day?”
“She is not quite so well to-day,” said the father, in a tone of sympathy which went to the heart of his son. He comprehended at once the state of the case. Sympathy for the evident suffering of his son, prevented him from making even the mental inquiry, whether that son had not failed in duty to him, by not seeking his approbation in a matter so momentous in its influence.
It was not from want of respect or regard for his parent, that Willard had not made known to him the state of his affections. In all ordinary matters, the wishes of his parent were a law to him; concealment was foreign to his nature. But when those dreams, and longings, and aspirations which the young heart is scarcely willing to confess even to itself, began to cluster around a living object; when, ere he was aware of it, all the wealth of his ardent soul was bestowed upon Eliza Warren, he felt an almost invincible repugnance to speak of it to any one but her.
After attempting to partake of some refreshment, he directed his footsteps toward the chamber of sickness, and to him of sorrow. His father kindly offered to attend him, but he begged permission to go alone.