"Among our visitors was one whom I can not speak of without a shudder. There was in him a combination of qualities calculated to inspire me with aversion, which grew from day to day into loathing. I do not believe my father really liked that man. Circumstances, however, had given him an influence in our house, against which it was vain for me to contend. His family was closely connected with my mother; and my father had acquired an estate through his marriage, with which these people were mixed up as trustees; they had, in fact, a lien upon us, which it was impossible to shake off; and by this means maintained a position with us which was at once so familiar and harassing to me, that nothing but my devotion to my father restrained me from an open mutiny against them.
"This man, who was not much my senior in years, but who seemed to have been born old, and to have lived centuries for every year of my life, entertained the most violent passion for me. I had no suspicion of it at first; and as the closeness of our relations threw us constantly together, I was feeding it unknowingly for a long time before I discovered it. I will spare you what I felt when I made that discovery—the horror! the despair!
"When I compared this man, loathsome and hideous to me, with him who was the Orlando, the Bayard, the Crichton of my foolish dreams, it made me sick at heart. So deep was the detestation he inspired, that, young as I was, I would have gladly renounced my own choice to have escaped from him. But there was one consideration paramount even to that; it was my father's desire that I should marry him.
"By some such sorcery as wicked demons in the wise allegories of fable obtain a control over good spirits, the demon who had thus risen up in my path obtained an ascendency over my father. It was impossible that he could have persuaded my father, who was clear-sighted and sagacious, into the belief that he possessed a single attribute of goodness; it must have been by the force of a fascination, such as serpents are said to exercise over children, that he wrought his ends. And the comparison was never applied with greater justice, for my father was as guileless as a child in mere worldly affairs, while the other was a subtle compound of cunning and venom, glazed over with a most hypocritical exterior.
"He worked at his purpose for months and months in the dark, by artifices which assisted his progress without betraying his aim. He adroitly avoided an abrupt disclosure of his design, for he knew, or feared, that if it came too suddenly, it would have shocked even my father. He saw that my fancy was taken up elsewhere, and the first part of his plot was, to prejudice and poison my father's mind against his rival. In this he effectually succeeded. But it was a more difficult matter to bring round his own object, and he never could have achieved it, with all his skill, had he not been so mixed up with our affairs as to have it in his power to involve my father in a net-work of embarrassments. The meshes were woven round him with consummate ingenuity, and every effort at extrication only drew them tighter and tighter.
"Had I known as much of the world then as I do now I might have acted differently. But I was a girl; my sensibility was easily moved; my terrors were easily alarmed; and I loved my father too passionately to be able to exercise a calm judgment where his safety was concerned. It was this devotion—impetuous and unreflecting—that gave an advantage to the fiend, of which he availed himself unrelentingly, and which threw me, bound and fettered, at his feet.
"I will not dwell on these memories. My heart was harrowed by a terrible conflict. I know not how it might have been, had I not gathered a little strength from wounded pride. A circumstance came to my relief which crushed my enthusiasm, and from that instant determined my fate.
"My father had often thrown out doubts of the sincerity of him to whom I looked up with so much admiration; and at last he spoke more explicitly and urgently. He told me that the hero of my dreams was merely trifling with my feelings, and amusing himself at the expense of my credulity—in short, that he was no better than a libertine. I revolted against these cruel accusations, and repelled them by asserting that he was the noblest and truest of human beings. But my father knew more of him than I did. Even while these painful discussions were going on between us, news arrived that he had been detected in a heartless conspiracy to entrap and carry off a ward in chancery—a discovery which compelled him to fly the country.
"I was stunned and humiliated. The dream was over. The idol was broken, and the shrine degraded forever. What resource should women have in such cases if pride did not come to their help—that pride which smiles while the heart is bleeding, and makes the world think that we do not suffer! They know not what we suffer—what we hide! Our education trains us up in a mask, which is often worn to the end, when the secret that has fed upon our hearts, and consumed our lives, day by day, descends into the dark grave with us! My sufferings at the time were very great—I thought they would kill me. What mattered it to me then how they disposed of me. Poor fool! I looked in on my desolated fancy, and gave myself up for lost.
"It was in this mood the machinations of that man whom I abhorred triumphed over me. My father's affairs had become hopelessly entangled in his, and a proposal to avert chancery suits and settle disputed titles by a union between the families of the litigants presented the only means of adjustment. My father listened to this insidious proposal at first reluctantly; then, day by day, as difficulties thickened, he became more reconciled to it; and, at length, he broke it to me, with a deprecating gentleness that never sued in vain to the heart that idolized him. I had nothing left in the world but my father to love. Under any circumstances my love for him would have made me waver. As it was, wounded and hopeless, galled, deceived, and cast off—for I felt as all girls do, and was thoroughly in earnest in my sentimental misery—my love for him lightened the sacrifice he prayed, rather than demanded at my hands.