Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Family -- England -- Fiction
He told us it was quite a new sensation to walk into the office without
timidity, and to have no fears of a biting, crushing speech about his
parents or himself; but to have the clerks getting up deferentially as
soon as he was known for Mr. Frith. He had hardly ever been allowed by
his old uncle to come across Mr. Castleford, who was of course cordial
and delighted to receive him, and, without loss of time, set forth to see
Clarence.
The consultation with the physician had taken place, and it was not
concealed from us that Clarence’s health was completely shattered, and
his state still very precarious, needing the utmost care to give him any
chance of recovering the effects of the last two years, when he had
persevered, in spite of warning, in his eagerness to complete his
undertaking, and then to secure what he had effected. The upshot of the
advice given him was to spend the summer by the seaside, and if he had by
that time gathered strength, and surmounted the symptoms of disease, to
go abroad, as he was not likely to be able as yet to bear English cold.
Business and cares were to be avoided, and if he had anything necessary
to be done, it had better be got over at once, so as to be off his mind.
Martyn and Frith gathered that the case was thought doubtful, and
entirely dependent on constitution and rallying power. Clarence himself
seemed almost passive, caring only for our presence and the
accomplishment of his task.
We had a blessed thanksgiving for mercies received in the Margaret Street
Chapel, as we called what is now All Saints; but he and I were unfit for
crowds, and on Sunday morning availed ourselves of a friend’s seat in our
old church, which felt so natural and homelike to us elders that Martyn
was scandalised at our taste. But it was the church of our Confirmation
and first Communion, and Clarence rejoiced that it was that of his first
home-coming Eucharist. What a contrast was he now to the shrinking boy,
scarcely tolerated under his stigmatised name. Surely the Angel had led
him all his life through!
How happy we two were in the afternoon, while the others conducted
Lawrence to some more noteworthy church.
‘Now,’ said Clarence, ‘let us go down to Beachharbour. It must be done
at once. I have been trying to write, and I can’t do it,’ and his face
lighted with a quiet smile which I understood.
So we wrote to the principal hotel to secure rooms, and set forth on
Tuesday, leaving Frith to finish with Mr. Castleford what could not be
settled in the one business interview that had been held with Clarence on
the Monday.
CHAPTER XLVI.
RESTITUTION.
‘Ah! well for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes.’
WHITTIER.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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