Zoe: The Nobleman and his Forbidden Love

Zoe: The Nobleman and his Forbidden Love by [Ford, TA].
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The country gentlemen in the neighbourhood made her many kindly intentioned offers of service, but "she could bear no brothers near the throne", and declined them all. At first, they laughed at her notion of managing for herself, and declared that she would come to ruin in a twelvemonth; but, as she did not, and the property went on improving, they declared she was a clever woman, with a fine spirit of her own.

She had the policy to keep on good terms with them, though their lady wives and daughters could not endure her, declaring that she was an unkind mother, and neglected her children. The fact was, that Madame Burrows had all her energies so absorbed by the management of her large property, that she never troubled herself with the minor details of her domestic establishment, except to see that the weekly expenses did not exceed the specified sum she had laid down for herself.

She was too much of a French woman to bestow much attention on her toilet, when there was nobody to see her, and it was hardly to be expected that she would take more trouble about the dress of her children. During the intermediate period the two boys were allowed to run wild about the grounds, and to associate with the servants; they saw their mother once a day for about a quarter of an hour, whilst she was taking her chocolate in the morning, when they were enjoined to sit very still and make no noise; their own meals they always took in the servants' hall, though there was an obsolete standing order, never complied with, that they were to eat with La Noix in her own sitting-room.

Everhard, the younger boy, had never been a favourite with his mother, perhaps his being destined for holy orders, which put him beyond the need of having his worldly prosperity schemed for, had also removed him beyond the sphere of her sympathies; certain it is, that she never showed him any tenderness, nor any of the caresses so prodigally lavished by mothers on their children. She invariably treated him with a dry and distant coldness, amounting often to harshness; his most trifling faults were vigorously punished, and the natural gaiety of childhood was repressed as levity.

His brother, on the other hand, was allowed much more liberty; even for him his mother seldom made many demonstrations of affection, but she did not chide and repulse him, as was the case with poor Everhard. The servants did not fail to perceive this, and to aggravate the effects in a way Madame Burrows little suspected. They were always telling him that his mother hated him, and in a thousand mortifying ways made the distinction between him and his brother more galling.

Everhard was a gentle, timid, affectionate child, to whom kind looks and words were more than his daily food, he willingly yielded to his brother in all things, who tyrannised as boys do, when they can with impunity. If Everhard ever ventured to resent a grievance, he was beaten for being quarrelsome; and once when he ventured to complain to his mother of some more than usually afflicting dispensation from his brother, his mother summarily disposed of the case, by subjecting both himself and Louis to the same punishment: The next day the servants all taunted him as a "tell-tale, like a little deceitful thing as he was".

Servants and low people are all very fond of affixing the epithet "deceitful" on every body who does not happen to please them. From constantly hearing himself called "deceitful", "naughty", and "troublesome", poor Everhard grew up to have a vague sense of being always wrong; the gay recklessness of childhood was crushed under the embarrassment of living under unloving eyes; the natural affectionateness of his disposition was thrown back upon himself; and he became shy, sullen, and very unhappy. That he really would have been an affectionate child, if they would have let him, the following incident will show.

It was the first anniversary of his father's death; prayers had been said in the little chapel which Madame Burrows had fitted up in the house; her feelings had been softened by the service, and she kept the two children to breakfast with her. She talked to them about their father, and was particularly kind to Everhard; - his little heart was quite melted, and when they were dismissed to play, he began to think what he could do to show his mother how much he loved her.

He pondered for a long time; at length he recollected having heard her say that she liked early mushrooms, and he determined to gather some for her supper. He and Louis were that day to have gone on a secret expedition with the gardener's boy and a friend of his from the village to see a badger hunted; - this he magnanimously gave up, in spite of the threats and entreaties of Louis. Arming himself with his basket and a small knife, he left Louis to pursue his scheme in peace, and began a vigorous search for mushrooms. There were none in the park, but he recollected that in a certain field beyond, there were always a great many.

This field happened just then to be full of cows, of a peculiar breed, very wild, and uncertain in their temper. At first, Everhard felt inclined to be frightened, but then he thought of his mamma and her supper, and mustered courage. He found abundance of mushrooms - but in his eagerness to fill his basket, he got, without perceiving it, into the very midst of the herd. Somewhat startled, on raising his head, to perceive this, he began to make the best of his way to the gate. The cows, which had hitherto paid no attention to him, now tossed their heads and began to pursue him; - luckily a man working in the next field perceived his danger, and ran to his help, otherwise it would have fared badly with him; - however, he had kept the lid of his basket safely shut down, in the midst of all his fright, and on his way home he gathered a large nosegay of wild flowers to present along with his other prize.

Arrived at home, despite of the standing orders to the contrary, he made his way to his mother's apartment. Out of breath, looking very flushed and heated, his clothes none the cleaner for his excursion, he opened the door with trembling eagerness, and stood in the presence of his mother. All the effusion of the tender feelings of the morning had long since subsided, and Madame Burrows sat at a small table entirely absorbed in settling some complicated accounts. At the noise of Everhard's entrance she looked up impatiently. Go to La Noix, if you want any thing; and what is that dirty basket in your hand?

Either speak or go away," said his mother. Here, La Noix," cried she, as she passed the door, "why don't you keep these children out of mischief? It is all you have to do. See, now, if he has not tore those trousers I mended for him only last night. When his mother heard of it, she did not interfere, because, as she said, she must keep up La Noix's authority in the eyes of the house. Madame Burrows, in her dread of encountering the ill-humour of a favourite domestic, magnanimously ran the risk of alienating the affections of her youngest son; but, to be sure, one annoyance would have fallen upon her immediately, whilst she would suffer no inconvenience from the other for some time to come.

In after life, Everhard was once with some friends who were speaking in the usual banal terms of childhood, calling it the "golden age of life", and all that. Everhard listened for some time with silent impatience; at length he broke out into an indignant recapitulation of his own childhood as the type of many others. In after life, a degree of hardness comes with years, and the man is not susceptible of pain like the child.

A child is so tender, that no grown person can calculate the keen pain that penetrates to its little heart, from one cold or harsh word; it is so utterly defenceless, that it needs to be surrounded with gentleness, and kept warm in a nest of love; it can hardly be said to be fully born, for though put forth into the world, it has not yet an existence of its own; it is only dependent on all around it, instead of on one alone; kind looks and words are the nourishment on which it must gain strength, no less than from its daily food; and if it be deprived of these, the after consequences are not to be told.

It may grow up to be strong in body, and like other children of men in outward appearance, but the human soul, will have been warped and stunted in its growth; the foundations of a cruel, artificial character will have been laid for life; the glad animal instincts, the bounding sensations, which the mere fact of being alive imparts to a healthy child, and which are bestowed to carry it over the first stage of existence - that fresh first stage which has been feigned by common consent to be the fading away of the glorious beauty of that world from which we are called forth; that one portion of life, that has been given to man at the outset of his journey, in order that when, hereafter, 'wearied by the greatness of his way', he may recollect it, and not be tempted to say 'there is no hope!

Madame Burrows began to think it time that the two boys should have better instruction than Madame La Noix and the parish clerk could impart, which amounted to reading, not very fluently, and writing, in something between mysterious "pot-hooks" and large joining hand, words of four letters. Accordingly she engaged an old priest, named Father Martin, to come and be confessor to the household, and to undertake the education of the children. In due time he arrived, to the great joy of Louis and Everhard, to whom any change was welcome.

Father Martin was a good, kind-hearted, chirping old man, without much talent or learning, but endowed with great singleness and simplicity of heart; his religion was a real croyance , and supplied the place to him of father, mother, wife, children, in fact, of all humanities.

The saints in the calendar were to him as real friends; the ceremonies of the church filled his heart, and took him back to the days of the apostles and martyrs; all his faculties were absorbed in religion, which gave a genial beauty to his whole character. Let a common-place person once be imbued with a real genuine feeling for religion, and it redeems them from all coarseness of feeling, gives them graces of intellect, and an elevation of character far beyond their natural standard.

From the arrival of Father Martin, Everhard dated his happiness. The old man had a fund of affection in his heart, and hitherto he had met with no object on which to exercise it. He soon found himself especially drawn to poor Everhard; he was very sorry for the harshness and neglect with which he was treated, for Madame Burrows used to excuse her coldness to others, and perhaps to herself, by saying, "that as he was destined to holy orders; it was far better that he should be accustomed betimes to the privations and mortifications which would hereafter make up the staple of his life.

Before he came, Everhard knew nothing except from the formal mass, without music, in a cold, dark chapel, and the long Latin prayers which he had been taught without explanation, and often as a punishment for some trifling offence. But when Father Martin talked to him about the saints and martyrs as though they had been his near and familiar friends, - then, the dry Litanies became touched by a quickening spirit.

They were to him a "power and presence"; they were really men, women, and children, who had once lived and believed as he was now doing. The mysterious sacrifice of the mass, had been offered up before their eyes, as it now was before his; they had taken part in the very words he now repeated; he was destined to fill the same holy office which many of them had filled; and in time his name might become associated with theirs in the Litanies, for the comforting and strengthening of some yet unborn worshipper, who might be as lonely and unhappy as he had so long been.

All this opened a new world to him. The prayers which had hitherto been penances, became the grand enjoyment of his life so soon as he was aware that he might ask boldly and without fear for every thing he wanted. For a long time he could scarcely believe that so great a favour was indeed his. On any childish emergency he applied to them as naturally and undoubtingly as another child would have gone to its mother.

Father Martin to him, was one of the saints not yet dead, and for that reason alone not put in the calendar. No event worth recording happened during the first six months of Father Martin's residence. But about that time it happened that Madame Burrows had some business about which a lawyer's advice was needed. Many household wants had accumulated which could not be supplied in Sutton, a journey to Coventry was therefore solemnly agreed upon.

She promised the two boys to take them with her, and as there was much to see as well as to do, they were to stay all night at an inn, and not to return till the next day. This was the first treat of any sort that had been promised to the boys, and their delight knew no bounds. They had never been beyond a few miles round Sutton since they came there; and besides, Coventry had been invested to their imagination with a mysterious charm, ever since they had read the history of Lady Godiva; and now they were actually to see the streets she had passed along, and the very likeness of Peeping Tom himself!

It is no wonder they could neither eat nor sleep for thinking of it. As to Everhard, the first thing he did was to inform his darling friends, the saints, and to entreat them to send a fine day for the journey. And a beautiful day it was. Everhard and his brother both dressed in their new clothes, which had come home from Peter Brocclehurst the night before, stood watching the process of harnessing the four horses to the large lumbering family vehicle, which they had never beheld brought from its resting-place except on rare and grand occasions. At the moment when Madame Burrows, followed by La Noix, appeared in the courtyard ready equipped for the journey, a dashing-looking gentleman rode up, followed by a servant on horseback.

Madame Burrows, with some surprise, recognised her brother. Everhard, you are the youngest, and besides, you must learn self-denial betimes, do you get out and give your place to your uncle. At first Everhard could hardly believe in the reality of his disappointment; but when the carriage was fairly out of sight, he sat down and cried with all the bitterness of childish indignation and helplessness: In a little while Father Martin passed across the court, and was surprised to find him there, thinking, of course, he had gone with the rest.

When he heard the story, the good old man could hardly help crying too for sympathy. What have I done to be left at home? He packed every thing neatly and rejoined Everhard, who had now dried up his tears, and found his spade and basket. They set off together into the wood, and when they were tired of rambling about, they dined under a large tree, where they rested during the heat of the day, and the old man told Everhard many tales, whilst the pleasant sunlight came through the transparent green leaves, and played and flickered as they moved about upon the moss and tree trunks beneath.

The flowers were quite white, and so transparent that the green leaves could almost be seen shining through them; a poor little quail had fallen out of its nest and hurt its wing; Everhard carried it home in great triumph to nurse. Coming home they had to pass through a village where there was a fair, and they met a club walking with blue staves, with the accompaniment of a band of music and gay flags; so, on the whole, Everhard had not once time to think of his disappointment.

As soon as they reached home, the first business was to put the bird in a cage, and then to set the flower roots. Who can calculate the amount of perversity, misanthropy, and all sorts of evil feeling which was averted from Everhard by the opportune kindness of this one day! Not averted only, but changed into wholesome human affection, which, in after life, kept him from the evil of the world, and abided by him in his days of darkness, when all the imposing array of creeds and precepts broke under him like reeds, as he leaned on them for help. A day, an hour, often contains the vital principle of what is elaborated into the conduct of years.

The next day all the party returned home. Louis was full of the wonders he had seen, and the coach was laden with purchases. Madame Burrows, to make some amends to Everhard for his disappointment, had brought him a beautiful new knife and a large kite, which his uncle good-naturedly undertook to teach him to fly. One fine morning, in harvest time, Madame Burrows said, at breakfast, "I wish, Father Martin, if you are not engaged, you would go with the doctor to visit a poor Irishman who lies ill in one of the barns; he has come over every harvest for many years past, and now, I fear, he is very ill.

See what things are needed, and they shall be sent. The poor man had been ill some days, but had struggled on with his work till that morning, when he fainted in attempting to rise from his straw. The doctor pronounced it a bad case of typhus fever, and recommended that the rest of the labourers should be lodged elsewhere. But the precaution came too late. Ten other of the unfortunate creatures sickened shortly, and five died notwithstanding every assistance that medical skill and kind nursing could bestow.

Madame Burrows, who, in spite of her imperious nature, had a genuinely kind heart, and a great deal of good sense, took such judicious steps, that the dreadful disease was confined entirely to the spot where it first showed itself, and did not spread either to the labourers on other farms, nor into the town itself. Madame Burrows and Father Martin were indefatigable in their attentions and kindness to the sufferers.

When the excitement caused by this calamity had somewhat subsided, and things began to fall into their accustomed course, Father Martin complained of being ill.

T. A. Ford

At first he only felt languid, which he attributed to the anxiety and fatigue he had recently undergone, but the next day he grew worse, and could not leave his bed. He had a presentiment that he should not recover. The only distress this gave him was, that he must leave his dear child, Everhard. He did not know how long they might be left together, so he lost no time in calling him to his bedside to give him what strength and comfort he could.

ZOE Trailer - CONTEST EDITION!

I shall not be very far from you, though you will not be able to see me. Will you think of this, and try not to be very unhappy when I am gone? We shall not be long separated. You will come to me at the end of a few years. If we lived in this world, you would have to go away and leave me to follow your studies; and how much better it is that I should go into the safe keeping of God and his saints. The dead never change; and when you come to me I shall love you as much as I do now. Nay, nay, my child," continued he, perceiving that poor Everhard's grief was uncontrollable, "you must not rebel against the Divine will in this manner.

Come, let us say the Litany of Jesus together; it will compose us both. Everhard was removed from the chamber almost by force, and he saw his dear friend no more.

He assembled with the rest of the household in the chapel, where the coffin was laid on a bier surrounded with wax tapers, a solemn service was performed, and then the remains of the good old man were conveyed to the vault, and laid beside those of Everhard's father. At first, Everhard's grief was not so violent as might have been expected, it was rather a stunned astonishment, for it seemed to him quite impossible that so great an affliction could have been laid in earnest upon any one. Father Martin had given him his missal, and he would sit for hours, with it upon his knees, not reading, but gazing vacantly at it.

He sat at table when he was summoned, and ate mechanically what was put upon his plate, but he spoke to no one, nor did he seem to notice any thing. Those round him, albeit little accustomed to notice his ways, became alarmed, his mother endeavoured by kind words and even caresses to rouse him, but he paid no attention to her, and escaped the first moment to his old station where he had left his missal.

A priest from a distance who had administered the last sacraments to Father Martin, offered mass in the chapel the following Sunday. As the service proceeded, the conviction that his dear old friend was really gone, and that his place must evermore be supplied by a stranger, flashed on Everhard as for the first time. He screamed aloud, and was removed from the chapel in hysterical convulsions; a violent passion of tears followed, after which he was put to bed and a composing draught administered. He did not again relapse into his former stupor, but it was very long before he regained his usual cheerfulness.

Some time after Father Martin's death, Everhard and his brother were sent to Bruges to be educated at a seminary, which was of great repute in those days. English Catholics of the higher classes were obliged to send their children from home if they wished them to receive a liberal education, Catholic schools not being at that time permitted in England. The remainder of Everhard's childhood passed without any thing to be recorded. He and his brother outgrew their childish bickerings, and became the friends that brothers ought to be.

When Everhard was seventeen and his brother eighteen they returned home, Louis to take his place as the head of the family, and Everhard to have a little relaxation previous to proceeding to Rome, to study for the priesthood at the English College there. Madame Burrows felt a mother's pride at seeing the fine looking young men her sons had become, and all her ambition was more than gratified when she beheld them cordially received into the ranks of the country gentlemen, amongst whom their frankness, good humour, and keen sportmanship, soon rendered them great favourites.

A letter from M. After some demur, Madame Burrows gave her consent; she exhorted him to be very steady, and on no consideration to exceed his allowance, assuring him that she would not advance one single farthing beyond. She then embraced him, and saw him depart with great composure. Louis showed much more feeling on the occasion, for though his new importance had all the flush of novelty with it, yet it did not reconcile him to the loss of Everhard's society, and it would be doing him a great injustice were we to omit to inform the reader that, unknown to his mother, he added a hundred a year to Everhard's allowance out of the income allowed to himself during his minority, and that his first act on coming of age was to double the amount.

Everhard accomplished his journey to Paris without accident or adventure, and a new era in life began for him. A girl of seventeen, fortune favouring, may be made into a very interesting heroine; people will believe all that can be said of her beauty, wit, and wisdom, and will patiently read through three or even six volumes full of her adventures, and find themselves much edified with the perusal.

But a lad of seventeen! All his graces of childhood have run to seed, and the victims of manhood have not yet replaced them; he is no longer the chubby darling, of the red shoes and coral; nor yet the interesting child in a picturesque hat and tunic; but an unfinished, uneasy biped, a plague to every body within his reach, and with whose doings and sufferings, nobody, not absolutely obliged, wishes to have the least concern. The gentle reader will easily sympathise with the dismay in which Madame du Pont was thrown, when her husband informed her that he had invited his nephew to pay them a visit on his way to Rome.

Madame du Pont was a woman of quality of a certain age. She felt a motherly vocation for forming the minds and manners of interesting young men, but then they must be - no matter stopping to define what. But she knew when she saw them, who would be likely to profit by her lessons, and she was quite sure beforehand that Everhard would be utterly destitute of all the qualities of an interesting young man, - that he would be awkward, that he would be a caricature, that, in short, he would be altogether unbearable. So she made up her mind that he should be satisfied with a very short visit, and be quite as anxious to proceed to Rome as she could be to see him depart.

They were interrupted in their conversation, whatever it might be, by the entrance of Monsieur du Pont, who led Everhard by the hand. Everhard you have so often mentioned? The smile of a young beauty loses in meaning what it has in brilliancy, it is the mere expression of personal pleasure or coquettish display; it wants the penetrating sweetness that makes the object feel it as a peculiar favour, not bestowed lightly or without intention. Madame continued to ask him questions about England, until the entrance of visitors interrupted her.

When the visitors had departed, Madame du Pont began to consider whether it might be possible to make her handsome nephew presentable in good company on so short a notice. As one of the set once said of her, "She contrived to be on respectful terms with God, whilst she kept up an agreeable acquaintance with the Devil. And then your clothes, oh, Heavens! However, there is no fear for your success in society; every thing English is the rage just now; you will soon become un jeune homme charmant , with the advantages you have.

Now ring the bell for Gaspard; we must lose no more time in talking. Tell La Force to be here early, that he may dress monsieur's hair; in short, you will go to M. Go, Gaspard, say the things are for M. When he was gone, his aunt gave Everhard a long lecture on the extravagance of paying tradespeople, and the necessity of taking care of his money for things that were indispensable; then she dismissed him to his own apartment to take some rest and refreshment. When he was alone, Everhard could hardly help smiling at the two lectures on economy he had recently received.

His mother and his aunt both spoke on the same subject, and there the resemblance ended. He was tolerably fatigued, and in no mood to quarrel with either the rest or refreshment prepared for him; still he sat down and wrote a letter to his mother, informing her of his safe arrival; and a longer one to Louis, telling him all that had happened since they parted. The "ministers of grace" did their spiriting to admiration.

Everhard could hardly recognise himself when he saw his reflection in a full-length mirror, even his aunt was hardly prepared for the improvement in his appearance. She expressed all the delight at his transformation of a child over a new doll, and allowed him to lead her to the carriage with a feeling of infinite complacency.

Your French accent is admirable. The other day she gave a dinner that was very scanty, and the conversation became very scandalous. Tables for play were set out, at some of which parties were already seated. The hostess was sitting at the upper end of the room, talking to a group of men who stood round her. Madame du Pont after paying her compliments, and presenting her nephew, glided to a sofa, where she perceived several of her acquaintances.

Everhard stood beside her. He saw men whose names have become historical; men who gave the first impulse to that movement which was destined to convulse society to its centre; but as yet, all was imprisoned in a chaos of theories and disputations, the surface of society was not yet broken, and all that was uttered that evening seemed to have no higher aim than to make brilliant conversation. After a while Madame du Pont sat down to ombre, and left Everhard to make his way for himself.

She nodded graciously as he came up, but did not interrupt her conversation. You do not yourself believe one word of all you have been saying about woman's genius and equality. Out of the million of women who are flattered by being told they possess genius, not one ever achieves a work that endures, or that obtains higher praise than of being something very wonderful for a woman.

Scarce one has ever achieved any thing that, in a man, would be considered first rate. I do not belong to the sisterhood of 'women of genius' myself, so my testimony is disinterested. Look at history, which is a tolerable criterion. If ever, by an extraordinary combination of circumstances, a woman has, from her position, influenced her age and country, her name speedily becomes a historical doubt, and her actions fabulous.

The name of a woman has never authentically descended to posterity, unless preserved in the memory of some transcendent crime. No woman has ever succeeded in gaining lasting fame, but many have lost their reputation in the attempt. When a woman's affections are engaged, all her littleness disappears; women have been grand, almost superhuman, through the strength of love, but the moment they desire to distinguish themselves, they become stripped of the 'divinity that doth hedge' a woman.

To be distinguished, seems a very grand thing, but to earn a name, is no holiday task; women are destitute both of patience and persistence, so no wonder that they fail, and their works appear ineffectual when measured beside those of really GREAT MEN who have laid out their lives in their work.

It is tolerant of crimes, and long suffering with dullness, but it shows no mercy to those who are different from other people. Grimm, "men have a natural instinct against incongruities; and that may explain the dislike and persecution, with which those men are received who come to it as prophets and teachers. All that stands apart from the mass surrounding it, ought either to have a class of its own to fall back upon, or else to carry the germ of a new order of things within itself; otherwise, it is an ineffectual singularity, without any significance to atone for its bad taste.

There is a sense of insecurity in the beginning of all change; we dread movement until we are fairly roused, and then we seem as if we could never know rest again. It is a pity we cannot calculate their action with precision, for then we might work miracles," said one who had not yet spoken. Grimm, "ideas of permanence and endurance beguile the imagination of men because they do not seem to be impossibilities; we could never have the heart to labour if we did not hope that our works would live after us; in our heart, we each expect to attain immortality, though 'ready to vanish away' is the device inscribed by destiny upon us and all we do.

The hope of achieving works which shall endure for ever, glimmers upon the horizon of things possible, like the elixir of life and the philosopher's stone, but none have arrived at the spot over which the star rests. The system holds together in this state till some trifle jars upon it, and then like other moulds which have become effaced, it is broken up for fresh combinations. This is the secret priests fable unknowingly in their dreams of a 'new heaven and a new earth'; man reduces to chaos, and out of chaos God creates fresh worlds.

I wish the lot had fallen to some one better able to convert you than I am," and rising from her place she allowed herself to be led across the room to the harpsichord, when she played and sang the recitative and air of "In vano alcun", from the "Armida". After the expressions of admiration had somewhat subsided - M. Grimm said, "We shall have some difficulty, to maintain the supremacy of Piccini after such singing as that, however, we must support the honour of our friend as well as we can. Another and another song succeeded, and the party broke up at a late hour.

During their drive home Everhard was quite unable to converse with his aunt; but as he kissed her hand, on parting from her for the night, she perceived that he looked handsomer than ever, so she was quite satisfied - much as she would have been with the success of some new point of costume on which she might have ventured. Everhard found his way to his own room. All night he was in a vague reverie, rather than sleep; and the scene he had quitted, the lights, the music, the conversation, flitted in confusion through his brain, like scenes in a phantasmagoria.

To-night, to begin with, she gave me a worked apron. I was not thinking of her. What do you think of him, the nephew? But he is very shy, and does not know the value of his beauty; for all the softness of his eyes, he looks out of them as if they were given for nothing else but to see with. Still there is something piquant in so much innocence. That delicate bloom will not last long upon his cheeks in Paris. His face seemed to have gained meaning even in that short time. You could live without sleep altogether, I think.

CHAPTER V Everhard felt on awakening the next morning, much as one of the seven sleepers might be imagined to have done; but he soon became accustomed to his new way of life, for one day only led to another, brighter and pleasanter than the last. His aunt, quite satisfied with the impression he produced, made him accompany her wherever she went, and he had to share both her amusements and devotions.

So Everhard's days passed on pleasantly enough. He was introduced to a perfumed, brilliant, luxurious version, of that hard, mysterious reality called LIFE.

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He mixed in female society for the first time; hitherto he had seen no women but his mother and her attendants. His exceeding inexperience kept him from perceiving the licentiousness and immorality that lay under the graceful amenities of the society in which he was moving; though, it must be owned, it was a critical experiment. He felt within himself the movement of passions which were beginning to make him sensible of their existence; and the host of undefined tumultuous sensations which filled his soul without pointing to any definite aim, gave him a sense of life and power, an intoxicating sense of joy, in the mere fact of existence.

He was entering on the "heritage of HIMSELF", and felt endowed with new gifts and perceptions, a passionate desire after the beautiful in all things; all his faculties seemed bathed in an atmosphere of warm light; the crust of reserve and awkwardness, which had shielded him from himself, dropped off like scales; he had not been stimulated into precocious maturity, and there was no danger of his adding to the melancholy band of those "whose unripe blessedness has dropped away from the young tree of life", before it has fulfilled its beautiful promise.

The brief period between childhood and maturity is indeed the golden age of life! A fairy dust is thrown over all persons and all things, making that lovely which is not so; like eastern monarchs, who caused beauty and fertility to spring up for the moment, when they had to journey through desert and unlovely places, making all look rich and glad as they passed along.

Everhard remained four months in Paris; at the end of that time, a letter came from his mother, desiring him to fix an early day for his departure to Rome. This announcement came on Everhard like a thunderbolt. Going to Rome had become a vague abstraction which was to occur at an indefinite period, and, until this moment, he was not aware of all the disinclination to his profession that had grown upon him.

To be a priest, under a "vow of obedience", was a very different thing to being one of his old saints travelling about from country to country, on errands of benevolence: He panted for some occupation that would call forth the energy which he felt pent up within him. It came to an end, like all other things. Nothing to do - nothing to hope for - no danger - no enterprise - no variety. I shall die, if I am made a priest; can you tell me no way to get out of it?

I fear there is no other career open to you; your lady mother would give neither help nor sanction to any change in your destination; besides, why should you wish for one? There is no need for you to be either a saint or a martyr, you will come and live in Paris; the women here, who are as fanciful about their confessors as they are about their doctors and lovers, will adjust the balance between you and their devotions; only think of the opportunity you will have of making a sensation when you come to preach!

Eloquence and you have it opens the way to every heart, to every thing to be desired in this world; it can cover a whole decalogue of sins; it is a regular enchanter's wand! You may have a glorious life; you may be a politician, a statesman; and, though vowed to celibacy, you may enjoy the devoted friendship of the loveliest women; any thing, every thing is open to you; there is no career like it for a man who knows how to run therein. Be discreet, be prudent; that is the true secret of leading an exemplary life.

So cheer up, and have no more foolish fancies. And now," said he, after a pause, "will you remain here whilst I dress? Madame du Pont had a migraine yesterday, and requested me to come early. Everhard hastened to his own room, where he remained alone with his own heart. He looked helplessly round for some one who might speak words of strong counsel to him; but there was no one. At length, with a start of surprise that he should not have thought of it before, he betook himself to his old resource in times of childish difficulty; he flung himself on his knees beside the bed, and with sobs and inarticulate words poured forth all his grief and perplexity.

He did not as heretofore, go to any of his favourite saints; it was from the service of God he shrank, and it was to that God Himself he went now in his agony of weakness. The only instant when man has any thing sublime about him, is, when prostrate before the invisible, he makes an offering of his own will and his own wisdom, desiring to be guided only to that which is best and wisest. Prayer is the appeal from the fluctuating incomprehensible aspect of this life, to Him who changes not.

None but they who are sinking under some of the infinitely varied forms of human need and human weakness, can tell the strong consolation of taking refuge from their perplexities with one, "who knoweth all things, and to whom all hearts are open". The remainder of that day passed as usual, but it seemed to Everhard that the beauty and delight which had fascinated him in this life of society had suddenly departed. The next morning, as he was preparing to pay some visits, he received a summons from his uncle.

Your mother has just sent me this letter, and desires me to advise you what course to take on the strength of it; but I think you are quite of an age to have a voice in the disposal of yourself. Your father bequeathed you to the Church, but you don't seem to me to have much vocation for it, at least you have shown none since you came here.

Did you ever hear of a distant relation, who is a prosperous India merchant, and making an income of more livres than I possess francs? I suppose you never saw him; he has started up like the good uncle or father at the last act of a comedy. There is a letter from him to your mother; read it, and see if you are disposed to close with the offer.

You had better take till to-morrow to consider. The letter was from the only surviving member of a distant branch of the family, which, eschewing the politics which had well nigh caused the ruin of the elder branch, had given all their energies to making money, and had succeeded amazingly: The first part of the letter in question was taken up with explaining to Madame Burrows the genealogy of the two branches, in a most prolix and herald-like fashion. The conclusion was more to the purpose; it was an offer to adopt the younger son, to initiate him in all the mysteries of trade, and finally to make him his successor in the old and wealthy firm of "Burrows and Co.

ZOE (1845)

I am rich enough to do what I like, and I am as desirous to continue a line of British merchants, as other people can be to found a family. I make no mention of your elder son, because he has already enough, and more than enough, and I will have nothing to do with gentlemen. If he does not choose to accept my offer, I shall bequeath my money to a hospital, and break up the concern. It has been carried on for more than a hundred years, from father to son, and I will not have a stranger for successor. Everhard is a name that has been in the family for generations, so I shall not so much mind his not being my son, but I expect he will bind himself to marry, that there may be no danger of the business going to a still more distant connexion.

Our wishes never seem so little desirable as when on the verge of accomplishment; we draw back instinctively, they look so different from what we expected. Everhard was not at all smitten by the prospect held out to him; he had at the bottom a prejudice against trade, which he had imbibed from his mother; he thought it degrading; added to which, all his natural tastes lay in a directly contrary direction. By a natural reaction of feeling, the way of life which so lately had looked hard and uninviting, seemed clothed with calm and mild dignity.

Now that he was free to choose, all desire for a secular life seemed dead within him. Accordingly, when he met his uncle next day, it was to intimate his fixed intention to follow the profession to which he had always been destined. A grateful letter was accordingly written to Everhard Burrows senior, declining his offer; and Everhard made preparations to depart to Rome.

He went to his aunt's dressing-room to take leave of her the morning of his departure. He found her amid a chaos of silks, feathers, and tissues of every conceivable variety, and so engrossed in a privy council for deciding on a presentation dress for the next court day, that she could not spare a moment to show any sensibility, which rather annoyed him.

She embraced him, however, very gracefully, saying, "Well, we shall have you back when you are a priest, and then you shall be my confessor! I wish you would send me some relics from Rome; I cannot meet with any here; if there are any pretty things worked in Lava, get them for me; they will be quite new. Are you a judge of Cameos? I am told you can get those sort of things for nothing there.

I wish you were going with me to the ball to-morrow. I shall look out, and solicit the minister for a good thing in the way of a benefice for you. Be discreet, and you will be sure to become a great man. The walls were hung round with portraits of great men, in the different costumes of cardinals, judges, warriors, who had all in their time been inmates of the college, and there was a prestige , in thus sitting surrounded as it were by the halo of their glory, very calculated to impress the ardent imagination of a young aspirant. But Everhard was not imaginative, and besides, he had no time to pause to gaze round.

He advanced at once to the chair of the Superior, and, bending his knee, kissed the hand that was extended to him. The Superior, a man somewhat advanced in life, with a keen eye and a stern aspect, uttered a few words of encouragement and welcome; then summoning an attendant, desired him to conduct Everhard to the refectory, where supper was already served. Everhard, following his guide in silence, entered the hall where all the inmates of the college were seated at supper, and took the seat indicated to him. At first, he felt somewhat confused at the idea of encountering the gaze of so many, but not an eye was turned towards him, all continued their supper with the silence and abstraction of Brahmins.

A young man at a desk at the upper end of the hall, read aloud out of the works of Cardinal Bellarmine; lay servants passed to and fro with trays on which the dishes were ready carved, and placed them before each; whilst a stately professor paced up and down between the tables to enforce silence and regularity.

The hall was vast and lofty; a carved walnut-wood wainscot ran round the wall with seats for more than a hundred persons; massive tables, raised a step all round, were fixed to the floor.


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Supper lasted about twenty minutes, when all rose and noiselessly retired to their own rooms; none of them approached Everhard, or seemed any way conscious of his presence. The attendant he had before seen, came up as he was standing in perplexity, not knowing whether to remain or follow, and conducted him to the apartment prepared for him, but all in perfect silence. Everhard, chilled and depressed by every thing round him, sat down listlessly in the window-seat, more disposed to weep than he had been since childhood. He felt very miserable indeed. The strong passions of adolescence which were rapidly developing, had no aim; he desired, he knew not what; the very gifts of intellect that were in him worked like passions; there was no one in the world to whom he could address himself; the brilliant life of society he had been leading for the last four months, had given him a hold on no one; he had entered a stranger, and departed the same: He had renounced the world, he had cut for ever the ties that bind men to men, the step he had taken was irrevocable, and he felt crushed down under the conviction.

A knock at the door at length roused him, and a robust, handsome young man entered, dressed in the close black gown and white linen band which was the usual in-door costume of the inmates of the college. He had withal, a dashing, jaunty air, which was not precisely the ideal of what a young priest should be. Saint Magdalen forgive me!

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With a start of pleasure he grasped his hand. Why, what brings you in such a place? I suppose I was pre-destinated to the shepherd's crook, and the work of training up a nice little flock of lambs to the credit of the church's pasturage, and to gain to myself a bright reversion in the celestial city. I would give it all to be free to wander for a year through this eternal city. I have not much faith in the heavenly beauties; those glorious Roman women are worth the whole calendar of saints. I am so glad you are come; I can talk to you without needing to make believe to be better than I am.

The discipline here is bad enough to endure, but the cursed hypocritical face one is obliged to put on is far worse. Dante's leaden cowls for hypocrites is no fable, but a Christian verity. As soon as he could get in a word, he said, "Well, now, John Paul, sit down and tell me all you have been doing since you left Bruges. Well, I have leave to stay an hour with you, as you are a new man, and an old friend, or else it is not according to law. It was quite night now, and they both seated themselves at the open window. Crashing their party, sends this fancy on the run!

Those giving chase after her would learn the hard way, Asiza was different - a search party with the dogs, simply would not do. Desperate, the town hires a bounty hunter - Broc Wolf. They give him specific instructions. Bring her back DEAD - not alive.

Bring back her head. Something told Broc Wolf not to accept the job, in fact before he even sets off, he doubts his ability to fulfill their request. After all, he'd never raised his hand in violence to a woman before in his life. Yet, of all the warnings they gave, not one of them cautioned him to guard his heart - once his eyes beheld the fancy - Asiza - he knew immediately, all bets were off.

En lire plus En lire moins. Heaven on Hell Island: Format Kindle Taille du fichier: Amber Swann Publishing Inc. Amazon Media EU S.

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Commentaires client Il n'y a pour l'instant aucun commentaire client. Partagez votre opinion avec les autres clients. Ecrire un commentaire client. Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon. I am going on record as saying Mercedes Keyes has become one of my favorite authors.

We first heard of Cora's daugthers when we were introduced to Suga in Fancy. These womwn were bred and raised to be "fancy" and service white men sexually. In Aziza's story, she refused to be used for sexual pleasure by these men so she killed them. They then tried to track her down and sent dogs after her but she slayed them too. In desperation, they hired Broc Wolf bounty hunter to track her down. What they did not know was that he was a descendant of Irish slaves and that his mother was a negro. Once he saw her, he knoew there was no way he could turn her in, instead he fell hard for her and decided to marry her.

He took her from Virginia to New York to start a new life as his wife. I loved Aziza's fiestiness and Broc's ability to deal with her moods. As with every Mercedes Keyes book that I have read, there is a lesson in history and her story telling makes it fascinating. You can't help but fall in love with her characters and its like losing a loved one when the book ends. This exciting romance started out with the heroine on the run. The hero had been hired not only to find her, but, behead her and as proof bring the head back!

Needless to say, the hero had a change of heart so Filled with historical facts regarding slavery in America, it actually ignites the reader's need to research beyond the novels to obtain a true understanding of the topic. Involving so much more than the enslavement of the African, the institution of slavery in the Americas apparently spans many more centuries and races than most people realize. Fascinating topic and this series is covering it beautifully. The two main characters have a unique relationship for a romance novel.