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Irving, Washington, 1783-1859

"Tales of a Traveller"

"
I endeavored to awaken hope within him. He was young; life had a
thousand pleasures in store for him; there is a healthy reaction in the
youthful heart; it medicines its own wounds--
"Come, come," said I, "there is no grief so great that youth cannot
outgrow it."--"No! no!" said he, clinching his teeth, and striking
repeatedly, with the energy of despair, upon his bosom--"It is
here--here--deep-rooted; draining my heart's blood. It grows and grows,
while my heart withers and withers! I have a dreadful monitor that
gives me no repose--that follows me step by step; and will follow me
step by step, until it pushes me into my grave!"
As he said this he gave involuntarily one of those fearful glances over
his shoulder, and shrunk back with more than usual horror. I could not
resist the temptation to allude to this movement, which I supposed to
be some mere malady of the nerves. The moment I mentioned it his face
became crimsoned and convulsed--he grasped me by both hands: "For God's
sake," exclaimed he, with a piercing agony of voice--"never allude to
that again; let us avoid this subject, my friend; you cannot relieve
me, indeed you cannot relieve me; but you may add to the torments I
suffer;--at some future day you shall know all."
I never resumed the subject; for however much my curiosity might be
aroused, I felt too true compassion for his sufferings to increase them
by my intrusion. I sought various ways to divert his mind, and to
arouse him from the constant meditations in which he was plunged.


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