Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

'38 WOTTON REINFKEDanswered in cold, brief commonplaces. At last hereceived a pressing entreaty, or rather, a peremptoryinjunction, to write no more. Then hope no longerlingered; thickest night sank over his spirit, and athousand furies were sent forth to scourge him.They were cruel days that followed. By-and-bycame reports that his Jane was to be wedded—weddedto Edmund Walter, a gay young man of rank, asoldier, and, as Wotton rated him, a debauchee, butwealthy, well-allied, and influential in the county.The wedding-day, it was even stated, had been fixed.'What have I to do with it ? ' said Wotton, as heshuddered at the thought ;*she is nought to me, Iam nought to her !But some secret change had occurred, and thepublic expectation was baulked. The marriage didnot take place, no one knew why ;left the neighbourhood in indignant haste ;only Walter hadthe aunt,also, and her niece, the latter apparently in deepestsorrow, had closed their house and retired to theirfriends in London.The talk of gossips was loud andmanifold, but no light could be elicited ;a curtain ofmystery still enveloped the transaction, and one spitefulhypothesis only gave place to another as spitefuland no better founded.What effect all this produced on the solitaryWotton we need not describe at length. His heartbled inwardly ; in solitude he suffered, for his prideand his affection had alike been cruelly wounded ;it