Alas, though I myself should be
buried in the ruin, why should I apprehend, or why lament it? I was
happy; untaintedly, uninterruptedly happy. But I am miserable. I am
confined here in a loathsome, detested prison. Even my conduct is shut
up with difficulties, and my bosom disquieted with the conflict of
seeming duties. Even Edwin, the swain to whom my heart was united, and
from whose memory my integrity derived new strength is corrupted,
depraved and base. Let then destruction come. I will not lament the
being cut off in the bloom of youth. I will not shed one tear, or feel
one fond regret, but for the calamity and disappointment of my parents."
But however the despair of Imogen armed her courage against the
concussions of nature, she yet felt that delicacy of constitution which
characterises the most lovely of her sex, and that amiable timidity
which often accompanies the most invincible fortitude. When the thunder
roared with so fearful violence, when the mansion burst in ruins over
her head, she stood, trembling and breathless, at the tumult around her.
Her safety was the first object of the attention of Edwin; and when she
recovered her recollection she found herself in the arms of her lover.
"_My fair one, my Imogen_," cried he, "have I recovered you through
so many obstacles, and in the midst of so numerous dangers? Oh, how must
our affection, the purest, brightest, that ever lighted a human breast,
be endeared by our mutual calamities! But virtue is ever triumphant,
virtue is never deserted of the watchful care of heaven.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219