man, obtained the promise of a kindly shelter in the quiet parsonage of Mr. Wood, she retired thither with but one wish, that of dragging out the remainder of her desolate life in seclusion, and in such peace as it might afford her. She thus withdrew from all intercourse with the outer world, grew attached to the Woods, in whom she found kind and faithful friends, and shared their labours for the good of those committed to their care; yet life appeared to her a sad and weary load, and her only solace was in the murmur of the waves, for to them alone could she reveal the secret of her grief, which, as though it were a trust from her departed husband, she kept locked from every human eye in the depths of her heart. Yet this afforded her but meagre consolation.
An image should appear at this position in the text. To use the entire page scan as a placeholder, edit this page and replace "{{missing image}}" with "{{raw image|Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/510}}". Otherwise, if you are able to provide the image then please do so. For guidance, see Wikisource:Image guidelines and Help:Adding images. |  |
The day on which Randolph Grey had first beheld her, being the anniversary of her husband’s death, she had felt more than usually depressed and miserable. Not only the sorrows of the past, but the hopeless dreariness of the future weighed heavily on her spirit. The latter had been partly, at least, dispelled by the growing interest for Captain Grey, which, unknown to herself, had ripened into a strong feeling of attachment, and it was only the avowal of his love which woke her to the painful consciousness, at once of the strength of his influence over her, and of her involuntary infidelity to the promise plighted to her husband. But no sooner was she conscious of the offence than she determined on the expiation — separation, immediate and eternal, from him whose attractions had caused this dereliction, for so she considered it, from her duty. Such an expiation was bitter indeed!
This fact, which though not admitted in direct terms, was but too evidently betrayed both by Rachel’s words and manner, caused Randolph Grey to listen to her narrative, with painful emotion indeed, but without despair.
Earnest and eloquent were his pleadings with her to induce her to alter her view of her own case — to reconsider her determination. The argument on his side was by no means untenable, for a promise given under a false impression, and that false impression to all appearance designedly conveyed, I would hardly have been considered binding if plighted to a living man — and upon what principle was Maxwell’s death to make it so? Should it not rather have set her free?
Such were Randolph’s reasonings, and Rachel’s I own heart was his most powerful auxiliary, though she earnestly strove to resist him, and to cling to that which she conceived to be her duty at once to the dead and to herself. Will it be thought wonderful that after long persuasion he induced her to submit the case to Mr. and Mrs. Wood, whose opinion, especially that of the former, as a clergyman, could not but have great weight with her.
Randolph Grey did not much fear their decision; and he was right, for they espoused his cause,
Mrs. Wood at once, her husband after due deli-