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O U T C A S T |
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of/the |
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-U-N-I-V-E-R-S-E- |
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. , . . , , ,o '+ ' * |
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' *. , . . |
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, ,o '+ *. , . . |
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' * , . . |
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*. , . . |
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Poor Wakefield! little knowest thou thine own insignificance in this great |
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world. No mortal eye but mine has traced thee. Go quietly to thy bed, foolish |
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man, and on the morrow, if thou wilt be wise, get thee home to good Mrs. |
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Wakefield and tell her the truth. Remove not thyself even for a little week |
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from thy place in her chaste bosom. Were she for a single moment to deem thee |
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dead or lost or lastingly divided from her, thou wouldst be woefully conscious |
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of a change in thy true wife for ever after. It is perilous to make a chasm in |
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human affections—not that they gape so long and wide, but so quickly close |
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again. |
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, ,o '+ ' * . , |
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' *. , . . |
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*. , . . , ,o '+ |
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, . . |
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. . |
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This happy event—supposing it to be such—could only have occurred at an |
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unpremeditated moment. We will not follow our friend across the threshold. He |
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has left us much food for thought, a portion of which shall lend its wisdom to |
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a moral and be shaped into a figure. Amid the seeming confusion of our |
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mysterious world individuals are so nicely adjusted to a system, and systems to |
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one another and to a whole, that by stepping aside for a moment a man exposes |
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himself to a fearful risk of losing his place for ever. Like Wakefield, he may |
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become, as it were, the outcast of the universe. |
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* * * |
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Wakefield / Twice-Told Tales, by Nathaniel Hawthorne |
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I stopped thinking |
