A Knight of the Nineteenth CenturyRoe, Edward Payson
General
A Knight of the Nineteenth Century
Roe, Edward Payson
Fiction
"Well, curse it all! I am here. What's the use of harping on that any
longer? Can't you listen when I say I want to retrieve myself? As to my
religious bringing up, it never did me a particle of good. If you had
whipped my infernal nonsense out of me, and made me mind when I was
little--There, there, mother," he concluded more considerately, as she
began to grow hysterical under his words, "do, for God's sake, be more
composed! We can't help what has happened now. I'll either change the
world's opinion of me, or else get out of it."
"How can I be composed when you talk in so dreadful a manner? You can't
change the world's opinion. It never forgives and never forgets. It's
the same as if you had said, I'll either do what is impossible or throw
away my life!"
"My dear Mrs. Haldane," said Mrs. Arnot, gently but firmly, "your just
and natural grief is such that you cannot now judge correctly and wisely
concerning this matter. The emergency is so unexpected and so grave that
neither you nor your son should form opinions or make resolves until
there has been time for calmer thought. Let me take you home with me
now, and as soon as Egbert is released he can join you there."
"No, Mrs. Arnot," said Haldane decidedly; "I shall never enter your
parlor again until I can enter it as a gentleman--as one whom your
other guests, should I meet them, would recognize as a gentleman. Your
kindness is as great as it is unexpected, but I shall take no mean
advantage of it."
"Well, then," said Mrs. Arnot with a sigh, "nothing can be gained by
prolonging this painful interview. We are detaining Mr. Melville, and
delaying Egbert's release. Come, Mrs. Haldane; I can take you to the
private entrance of a quiet hotel, where you can be entirely secluded
until you are ready to return home. Egbert can come there as soon as the
needful legal forms are complied with."
"No," said the young man with his former decision, "mother and I must
take leave of each other here. Mother wants no jail-birds calling on her
at the hotel. When I have regained my social footing--when she is ready
to take my arm and walk up Main street of this city--then she shall see
me as often as she wishes. It was my own cursed folly that brought me to
the gutter, and if mother will pay the price of my freedom, I will alone
and unaided make my way back among the highest and proudest."
"I sincerely hope you may win such a position," said Mrs. Arnot gravely,
"and it is not impossible for you to do so, though I wish you would make
the attempt in a different spirit; but please remember that these
considerations do not satisfy and comfort a mother's heart. You should
think of all her past kindness; you should realize how deeply you have
now wounded her, and strive with tenderness and patience to mitigate the
blow."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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