Roland felt himself at the moment incapable either
of reply or evasion. This extraordinary enthusiast had preserved over
him in some measure the ascendency which she had acquired during his
childhood; and, besides, he knew the violence of her passions and her
impatience of contradiction, and was sensible that almost any reply
which he could make, was likely to throw her into an ecstasy of rage.
He was therefore silent; and Magdalen Graeme proceeded with increasing
enthusiasm in her apostrophe--"Once more, what seek'st thou, false
boy?--seek'st thou the honour thou hast renounced, the faith thou hast
abandoned, the hopes thou hast destroyed?--Or didst thou seek me, the
sole protectress of thy youth, the only parent whom thou hast known,
that thou mayest trample on my gray hairs, even as thou hast already
trampled on the best wishes of my heart?"
"Pardon me, mother," said Roland Graeme; "but, in truth and reason, I
deserve not your blame. I have been treated amongst you--even by
yourself, my revered parent, as well as by others--as one who lacked
the common attributes of free-will and human reason, or was at least
deemed unfit to exercise them. A land of enchantment have I been led
into, and spells have been cast around me--every one has met me in
disguise--every one has spoken to me in parables--I have been like one
who walks in a weary and bewildering dream; and now you blame me that
I have not the sense, and judgment, and steadiness of a waking, and a
disenchanted, and a reasonable man, who knows what he is doing, and
wherefore he does it.
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