THE
M I S S I O N A R Y :
AN
Indian Tale.
BY
MISS OWENSON.
WITH A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
FOURTH EDITION.
VOL. II:
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR J. J. STOCKDALE,
NO. 41, PALL MALL.
1811.
| CHAPTER VIII., IX., X., XI., XII. |
THE MISSIONARY,
&c.
CHAPTER VIII.
IT was the season of visitation of the Guru of Cashmire to hisgranddaughter. The Missionary beheld him with his train approach herabode of peace, and felt the necessity of absenting himself from theconsecrated grove, where he might risk a discovery of his intentionsunfavourable to their success. He knew that the conversion of theBrachmachira was only to be effected by the frequent habit of seeingand conversing with her, and that a discovery of their interviews wouldbe equally fatal to both. Yet he submitted to the necessity whichseparated them, with an impatience, new to a mind, whose firm tenourwas, hitherto, equal to stand the shock of the severest disappointment.Still did his steps involuntarily bend to the skirts of the grove, andstill did he return sad, without any immediate cause of sorrow, anddisappointed, without any previous expectation. To contemplate thefrailty, to witness the errors of the species to which we belong, is tomortify that self-love, which is inherent in our natures; yet to bedissatisfied with others, is to be convinced of our own superiority. Itis to triumph, while we condemn—it is to pity, while we sympathize.But, when we become dissatisfied with ourselves; when a proudconsciousness of former strength unites itself with a sense of existingweakness; when the heart has no feeling to turn to for solace; when themind has no principle to resort to for support; when suffering isunalleviated by self-esteem, and no feeling of internal approbationsoothes the irritation of the discontented spirit; then all is hopeless,cold, and gloomy, and misery becomes aggravated by the necessity whichour pride dictates, of concealing it almost from ourselves. Dayslistlessly passed, duties neglected, energies subdued, zeal weakened;these were circumstances in the life of the apostolic Nuncio, whoseeffects he rather felt than understood. He was stunned by the revolutionwhich had taken place in his mind and feeling, by the novelty of theimages which occupied his fancy, by the association of ideas whichlinked themselves in his mind. He would not submit to the analysis ofhis feelings, and he was determined to conquer, without understandingtheir nature or tendency. Entombed and chained within the most remotedepths of his heart, he was deaf to their murmurs, and resisted theirpleadings, with all the despotism of a great and lofty mind, createdequally to command others and itself. With the dawn, therefore, o