It was
hereditary--this attachment. My father had loved and trusted his;
relieved the necessities of the humble family once when they were about
to be turned adrift for debt. The elder Nighthawk then conceived a
profound affection for his benefactor--and dying, left to his son the
injunction to watch over and serve faithfully the son of his 'old
master.'
"Do not laugh at that word, Surry. It is the old English term, and
England is best of all, I think. So Nighthawk came to live with me, and
take care of my interests. You know that he has continued to be
faithful, and to serve me, and love me, to this moment.
"But in spite of the presence of this true friend, I was still lonely.
I craved life, movement, company--and this I promised myself to secure
at the university of Virginia, to which I accordingly went, spending
there the greater portion of my time until I had reached the age of
twenty. Then I returned to Fonthill--only to find, however, that the
spot was more dreary than before. I was the master of a great estate,
but alone; 'lord of myself,' I found, like the unhappy Childe Harold,
and Randolph of Roanoke after him, that it was a 'heritage of woe.'
There was little or no society in the neighborhood--at least suited to
my age--I lived a solitary, secluded, dormant existence; and events
soon proved that this life had prepared my character for some violent
passion.
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