(Excuse My
Passion) The Villain Laid On With A Malicious Good-Will; Nay, I Could
Absolutely Hear Him Chuckle And Laugh Beneath His Accursed Mask - I Beg
Pardon For Growing A Little Warm In My Narration.
I wish to be cool,
but these recollections will sometimes agitate me.
I have heard and
read of many desperate and deplorable situations of lovers; but none, I
think, in which true love was ever exposed to so severe and peculiar a
trial.
This could not last long. Flesh and blood, at least such flesh and
blood as mine, could not bear it. I had repeated heartburnings and
quarrels with my rival, in which he treated me with the mortifying
forbearance of a man towards a child. Had he quarrelled outright with
me, I could have stomached it; at least I should have known what part
to take; but to be humored and treated as a child in the presence of my
mistress, when I felt all the bantam spirit of a little man swelling
within me - gods, it was insufferable!
At length we were exhibiting one day at West End fair, which was at
that time a very fashionable resort, and often beleaguered by gay
equipages from town. Among the spectators that filled the front row of
our little canvas theatre one afternoon, when I had to figure in a
pantomime, was a party of young ladies from a boarding-school, with
their governess. Guess my confusion, when, in the midst of my antics, I
beheld among the number my quondam flame; her whom I had be-rhymed at
school; her for whose charms I had smarted so severely; tho cruel
Sacharissa!
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