Douglas, Stephen A. (Stephen Arnold), 1813-1861 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
But to return to Zoe: if her
mother's father wished to secure the mother against misfortune by
bringing her north and marrying her to a white man (my father, as it
turned out) why should not I, her half-brother, try to protect her
against the future that her mother might have incurred? I reason that I
have taken the place of Zoe's grandfather, and must do for her what he
tried to do for Zoe's mother. This inheritance of duty comes to me as the
land comes to me, without my will. Zoe's grandfather gave my father his
start, gave him the $2500 bonus to marry Zoe's mother. I think, in
considering what share of the estate Zoe should have, these things cannot
be ignored. Of course I don't know exactly how much of the $2500 went
into this land. From things I have heard I think my father spent money
freely; he went about a good deal and was not as temperate as he should
have been for his own health and prosperity. Something was evidently
preying upon his mind. Anyway, I have decided the matter, and I hope you
will approve of me. I went to father's grave this morning, and it made me
sad. Afterwards Mr. Brooks, the lawyer, drove me to the farm and around
most of it. I am going to take hold of it at once. This country is
growing rapidly, and I mean to do what my father didn't exactly. I am
going to be rich; that is my ambition. And I must think and work. I am
well again, or nearly so, and full of hope and plans, though sometimes
lonely for you and for England. Some day I shall come back to see you. My
love to you, dear grandmama. And do write me as often as you can.
"Affectionately, James."
And that evening Douglas came. He was of the smallest stature, but with
a huge chest and enormous head. His hair was abundant and flowing,
tossed back from his full forehead like a cataract. His eyes were blue
and penetrating, but kindly. His face rather square. His voice deep and
resonant. His words were clearly spoken, and fell from his lips freely,
as if he were loosening them into a channel worn by long thinking. His
ideas were clearly envisioned. He had read books of which I had never
heard. But apart from books his sallies of wit, the aptness of his
stories and allusions quite dazzled me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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