England -- Fiction; Gothic fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
"How d'ye do, Richard? You're punctual. I wish our meeting was a
pleasanter one. Sit down. You haven't kept faith with me. It is scarcely
a year since, with a large sum of money, such as at your age I should
have thought a fortune, I rescued you from bad hands and a great danger.
Now, Sir, do you remember a promise you then made me? and have you kept
your word?"
"I confess, uncle, I know I can't excuse myself; but I was tempted, and
I am weak--I am a fool, worse than a fool--whatever you please to call
me, and I'm sorry. Can I say more?" pleaded the young man.
"That is saying nothing. It simply means that you do the thing that
pleases you, and break your word where your inclination prompts; and you
are sorry because it has turned out unluckily. I have heard that you are
again in danger. I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
and hard, and the oblique light showed severe lines at his brows and
mouth. It was a face which, generally kindly, could yet look, on
occasion, stern enough. "Now, observe, I'm not going to help you; I'm
not even going to reason with you--you can do that for yourself, if you
please--I will simply help you with _light_. Thus forewarned, you need
not, of course, answer any one of the questions I am about to put, and
to ask which, I have no other claim than that which rests upon having
put you on your feet, and paid five thousand pounds for you, only a year
ago."
"But I entreat that you do put them. I'm ashamed of myself, dear Uncle
David; I implore of you to ask me whatever you please: I'll answer
everything."
"Well, I think I know everything; Lord Pindledykes makes no secret of
it. He's the man, isn't he?"
"Yes, Sir."
"That's the sallow, dissipated-looking fellow, with the eye that squints
outward. I know his appearance very well; I knew his good-for-nothing
father. No one likes to have transactions with that fellow--he's
shunned--and you chose him, of all people; and he has pigeoned you. I've
heard all about it. Everybody knows by this time. And you have really
lost fifteen thousand pounds to him?"
"I am afraid, uncle, it is very near that."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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