“This is my post: I was born for this—to
rule England in anarchy, to save her in danger—to
devote myself for her. The blood of my forefathers
cries aloud in my veins, and bids me be first among
my countrymen. Or, if this mode of speech offend
you, let me say, that my mother, the proud queen,
instilled early into me a love of distinction, and
all that, if the weakness of my physical nature and
my peculiar opinions had not prevented such a design,
might have made me long since struggle for the lost
inheritance of my race. But now my mother, or,
if you will, my mother’s lessons, awaken within
me. I cannot lead on to battle; I cannot, through
intrigue and faithlessness rear again the throne upon
the wreck of English public spirit. But I can
be the first to support and guard my country, now
that terrific disasters and ruin have laid strong hands
upon her.
“That country and my beloved sister are all
I have. I will protect the first—the
latter I commit to your charge. If I survive,
and she be lost, I were far better dead. Preserve
her—for her own sake I know that you will—if
you require any other spur, think that, in preserving
her, you preserve me. Her faultless nature, one
sum of perfections, is wrapt up in her affections—if
they were hurt, she would droop like an unwatered
floweret, and the slightest injury they receive is
a nipping frost to her. Already she fears for
us. She fears for the children she adores, and
for you, the father of these, her lover, husband,
protector; and you must be near her to support and
encourage her. Return to Windsor then, my brother;
for such you are by every tie—fill the double
place my absence imposes on you, and let me, in all
my sufferings here, turn my eyes towards that dear
seclusion, and say—There is peace.”
[1] Shakespeare’s Sonnets.
CHAPTER VII.
I did proceed to Windsor, but not with the intention
of remaining there. I went but to obtain the
consent of Idris, and then to return and take my station
beside my unequalled friend; to share his labours,
and save him, if so it must be, at the expence of
my life. Yet I dreaded to witness the anguish
which my resolve might excite in Idris. I had
vowed to my own heart never to shadow her countenance
even with transient grief, and should I prove recreant
at the hour of greatest need? I had begun my journey
with anxious haste; now I desired to draw it out through
the course of days and months. I longed to avoid
the necessity of action; I strove to escape from thought—vainly—futurity,
like a dark image in a phantasmagoria, came nearer
and more near, till it clasped the whole earth in its
shadow.
Copyrights
The Last Man from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
