rol the strong feeling within
me. His words had left a powerful impression upon my mind. His tone, his
tears--his man's tears--stamped those words with truth, and I believed him
wronged. In what way I knew not--nor did I care. It was sufficient for me
to hear it, as I did, from his lips, and to be told that it was not
possible to reveal more. Besides, sir, I have already intimated to you
that there was little tenderness in my mother's heart for me. She was
cold, indifferent, and had never had part in all my little joys and
griefs. My father, even with his heavy fault--a fault almost pardoned, as
I believed; by the provocation--watched my boyish steps, and rejoiced with
me in my well-doing. Nothing had interest for me which was not important
to him. He encouraged me in learning. He grudged no money that could be
spent in my improvement--he had no joy so great as that which waited on my
desire for knowledge. He had been to me a playmate, counsellor, friend,
whenever his slender opportunities permitted him to escape to me; and
evidences of the most devoted affection had disturbed my youthful heart
with an emotion too deep for utterance in the silence and solitude of my
schoolboy hours. Yes--right or wrong--by necessity--my sympathy was all
for him. And to convince you, sir, that my feelings were enlisted in his
cause, irrespectively of self, without the most distant view to my own
interest, I have but to refer to the life which I passed under his roof,
until I left it, to return, for a second time, to the enjoyments and
consolations--as they were always--of my school. Although his affection
for me was unbounded, it was not long before I perceived, with bitterness
and trouble, that it was impossible for him to save me from the fury of a
temper which he had no longer power to govern. I could read, or I believed
I could, his inmost soul, and I could see the hourly struggle for
forbearance and self-control. It was in vain. If his passion obtained the
rein for an instant--it was wild--away--beyond his reach--and he thought
not, in the paroxysm, of the sufferer, whose smile he would not have
ruffled in the season of sobriety and quiet. I did not fail again and
again to remonstrate on behalf of my mother--for the scene which I have
described to you became an endless one; but perceiving at length that
representation added only fuel to the fire, I desisted. My lively habits
soon appeared to be unsuited to the new order of things. My f