Confession - Page 194/274

I, too, could now look in the same quarter. My feelings were less

bitter than they were, and William Edgerton shared in the change.

I did not the less believe him to have done wrong, but, in the

renewed conviction of my wife's purity, I could forgive him, and

almost think he was sufficiently punished in entertaining affections

which were without hope. Punished he was, whether by hopelessness

or guilt, and punished terribly. I could see a difference for the

worse in his appearance since I had last conferred with him. He was

haggard and spiritless to the last degree. He had few words while

we sat at table, and these were spoken only after great effort;

and, regarding him now with less temper than before, it seemed to

me that his parents had not exaggerated the estimate which they

had formed of his miserable appearance. He looked very much like

one, who had abandoned himself to nightly dissipation, and those

excesses of mind and body, which sap from both the saving and

elevating substance. I did not wonder that the old man ascribed

his condition to the bottle and the gaming-table. But that I knew

better, such would most probably have been my own conclusion.

The conversation was not general--confined chiefly to Mr. Edgerton

the elder and myself. Mrs. Edgerton remained awhile after the

cloth had been withdrawn, joining occasionally in what was said,

and finally left us, though with still a lingering, and a last look

toward her son, which clearly told where her heart was. William

Edgerton followed her, after a brief interval, and I saw no more

of him, though I remained for more than an hour. He had said but

little. It was with some evident effort, that he had succeeded in

uttering some general observation on the subject of the Alabama

prairies--those beautiful "gardens of the desert," "For which the speech of England has no name."

My removal had been the leading topic of our discourse, and when

I declared my intention to start on the very next day, and that

the present was a farewell visit, the emotion of the son visibly

increased. Soon after he left the room. When I was alone with the

father, he took occasion to renew his offer of service, and, in

such a manner, as to take from the offer its tone of service. He

seemed rather to ask a favor than to suggest one. Money he could

spare--the repayment should be at my own leisure--and my bond would

be preferable, he was pleased to say, to that of any one he knew.

I thanked him with becoming feelings, though, for the present,

I declined his assistance. I pledged myself, however, should

circumstances make it necessary for me to seek a loan, to turn, in

the first instance, to him. He had been emphatically my friend--THE

friend, sole, singular--never fluctuating in his regards, and never

stopping to calculate the exact measure of my deserts. I felt that

I could not too much forbear in reference to the son, having in

view the generous friendship of the father.