'Tis true indeed, there's danger in delay,
Then let us speed, and hasten far away;
For what of fear, or what of doubts molest,
When deep affection reigns within the breast.
Several weeks now passed away without any material occurrence, and the
season of the year came round when the winter's snow was passing from
the face of nature, succeeded by heavy showers of rain, and the days had
become more pleasant, because they were something longer. The air was
more salubrious, and invited the citizens to inhale its healthful
draught without their dwellings, where they had been several months in a
manner shut up from the inclemencies of the cold season.
One morning after the family had taken breakfast, they sat talking over
late events and recent occurrences that had varied so materially within
the last three months. In this conversation, they were unmindful of the
hour, until Mr. Bolton, without ceremony, (as was his custom,) entered
the breakfast parlour. After the usual salutations to her parents, and
conversing some time with his aunt, he addressed Alida with his native
pleasantry, relating to her some stories of the satirical order as the
current news of the city. He afterwards informed her of the conversation
between himself and her father, and in what manner the latter had
replied. Alida remained silent, with her eyes fixed upon the floor, as
if revolving in her mind what to say.
In the meantime, he did not await her reply, but entreated her in the
most pathetic language to consent to elope with him, and at all events
to unite her destiny with his; at the same time telling her that
implicit obedience to a parent's will, in an affair that so materially
concerned her happiness, could not be expected, and that her father was
much to blame in attempting to control her liberty of choice; saying,
moreover, that after their views should be accomplished, that he had no
doubt whatever of his reconciliation. He had lately received
intelligence of the death of an uncle in Savannah, who had bequeathed to
him his fortune. He was preparing for his departure thence. He would
not, therefore, give up his former project, and thought to avail himself
of this opportunity, (by all the rhetoric he was master of,) to urge
Alida to accept him and accompany him on his journey. He even proposed
whither they should escape from the eye of her father for the
performance of the marriage ceremony.
[[This section is recycled from _A&M_, referring to the proposed
elopement with Alonzo/Theodore. The passage was previously cited
verbatim.]]
Alida was truly shocked and surprised at a proposition so unexpected
from Mr. Bolton, after he had known her father's decision. She had never
considered him in any other light than as a brother; and being a
connexion in the family, they had always been on terms of friendly
intercourse. She, therefore, would have avoided this meeting if she
could have had previously an idea of the result.
[_Alida_ page 125 (chapter XV):
Alida was truly shocked and surprised at this unexpected visit from
Bonville....]
After he had made to her these several propositions, her displeasure
held her for some time silent, while it affected her mind sensibly.
Nevertheless, she endeavoured to recover herself to answer him in a
decided, and, at the same time, in a manner compatible with her present
feelings. She commenced urging him to endeavour to forget her in any
other light than as a friend. "Can you suppose, Mr. Bolton," said she,
"that I would set a parent's will at defiance, by committing so unwary
an action as to dispose of myself in a clandestine manner, nor could you
again imagine that I would give my hand where my heart has no particular
regard." She scarcely uttered this, and could say no more ere he
conjured her not to shut her heart against him for ever, and entreated
her to permit him still to hope that after a while her compassion might
become awakened to the remembrance of a sincere, true, and constant
heart, which would cause her to heave the sympathetic sigh for one who
could never eradicate her from his memory, even for a moment, or chase
from his bosom the esteem and love that time could neither weaken nor
extinguish. He was extremely sorrowful in taking leave of Alida and the
family, and set out the ensuing day on his journey.
Alida felt unhappy at the earnest importunities of a person she could
not but have some esteem for. She could not fail to admire the superior
powers of his mind. In his conversation, he was all that was agreeable,
entertaining, and improving, which abounded with sallies of wit and
humour, joined to a fund of erudition acquired by a collegiate
education. He was particular to associate only with young men of merit,
talents, and genius. He possessed a native vein of satire, which he
sometimes indulged with much effect; though, however, he had this
dangerous weapon under such thorough discipline, that he rarely made use
of it in a way which gave offence to any. He never accumulated any
wealth by his own exertion, as he thought what he already inherited was
more than sufficient for all his wants. He seemed not to seek for an
abundance, like many others, as necessary to his happiness, thinking
that, with contentment, the peasant is greater than the prince destitute
of this benign blessing, and that a competency, rather than a
superfluity, could convey real happiness to man. He thought, that to the
improper pursuit after happiness could be attributed much of the misery
of mankind; daily he saw dread examples of this serious truth, that
many, in grasping at the shadow, had lost the substance. A near relative
had now been bountiful to leave him a fortune. That, however, he was
thankful for, as it increased his fund for charitable purposes. His
intention was to get possession of this and return to the city of
New-York, to make it his permanent residence.
[_Lives of Signers_: Walton of Georgia:
But he was attentive to merit; and towards young men of talents and
genius he was respectful.... He possessed a native vein of satire,
which he at times indulged with much effect. It is said of him,
however, that he had this dangerous weapon under such thorough
discipline, that he rarely indulged it in a way which gave offence
to any.
...
Mr. Walton never accumulated wealth, as he seemed not to have sought
for it, as necessary for his happiness.
[_NY Weekly_: Happiness:
Content constitutes continual happiness; for with that sweet
companion, the peasant is greater than a prince destitute of the
benign blessing....
How few, even in any state, do we find happy? Alas! the number is by
far too few. To the improper pursuit after happiness, can we only
attribute the misery of mankind; daily, nay even hourly, do we see
dread examples of this serious truth. But where is the eye that has
not beheld, the mind that has not felt, or the heart that has not
pitied, some object who has, in grasping at the shadow of happiness,
lost the substance....]