The Holly-Tree
Charles Dickens
Paperback
(Independently published, Aug. 6, 2020)
I have kept one secret in the course of my life. I am a bashful man. Nobody would supposeit, nobody ever does suppose it, nobody ever did suppose it, but I am naturally a bashfulman. This is the secret which I have never breathed until now.I might greatly move the reader by some account of the innumerable places I have not beento, the innumerable people I have not called upon or received, the innumerable socialevasions I have been guilty of, solely because I am by original constitution and character abashful man. But I will leave the reader unmoved, and proceed with the object before me.That object is to give a plain account of my travels and discoveries in the Holly-Tree Inn; inwhich place of good entertainment for man and beast I was once snowed up.It happened in the memorable year when I parted for ever from Angela Leath, whom I wasshortly to have married, on making the discovery that she preferred my bosomfriend. From our school-days I had freely admitted Edwin, in my own mind, to be farsuperior to myself; and, though I was grievously wounded at heart, I felt the preference tobe natural, and tried to forgive them both. It was under these circumstances that I resolvedto go to America—on my way to the Devil.Communicating my discovery neither to Angela nor to Edwin, but resolving to write each ofthem an affecting letter conveying my blessing and forgiveness, which the steam-tender forshore should carry to the post when I myself should be bound for the New World, farbeyond recall,—I say, locking up my grief in my own breast, and consoling myself as I couldwith the prospect of being generous, I quietly left all I held dear, and started on the desolatejourney I have mentioned.