his fortune, and even destroyed his
reputation and influence through a course of dissolute indulgence. His
health was impaired beyond hope of cure; and it became his earnest wish,
before he died, to preserve his daughter from the poverty which would be
the portion of her orphan state. He therefore accepted for her, and
persuaded her to accede to, a proposal of marriage, from a wealthy Greek
merchant settled at Constantinople. She quitted her native Greece; her
father died; by degrees she was cut off from all the companions and ties of
her youth.
The war, which about a year before the present time had broken out between
Greece and Turkey, brought about many reverses of fortune. Her husband
became bankrupt, and then in a tumult and threatened massacre on the part
of the Turks, they were obliged to fly at midnight, and reached in an open
boat an English vessel under sail, which brought them immediately to this
island. The few jewels they had saved, supported them awhile. The whole
strength of Evadne's mind was exerted to support the failing spirits of her
husband. Loss of property, hopelessness as to his future prospects, the
inoccupation to which poverty condemned him, combined to reduce him to a
state bordering on insanity. Five months after their arrival in England, he
committed suicide.
"You will ask me," continued Evadne, "what I have done since; why I have
not applied for succour to the rich Greeks resident here; why I have not
returned to my native country? My answer to these questions must needs
appear to you unsatisfactory, yet they have sufficed to lead me on, day
after day, enduring every wretchedness, rather than by such means to seek
relief. Shall the daughter of the noble, though prodigal Zaimi, appear a
beggar before her compeers or inferiors--superiors she had none. Shall I
bow my head before them, and with servile gesture sell my nobility for
life? Had I a child, or any tie to bind me to existence, I might descend to
this--but, as it is--the world has been to me a harsh step-mother; fain
would I leave the abode she seems to grudge, and in the grave forget my
pride, my struggles, my despair. The time will soon come; grief and famine
have already sapped the foundations of my being; a very short time, and I
shall have passed away; unstained by the crime of self-destruction, unstung
by the memory of degradation, my spirit will throw aside the miserable
coil, and find such recompense as fortitude and resignat
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