Colonel Quaritch, V.C.: A Tale of Country LifeHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
General
Colonel Quaritch, V.C.: A Tale of Country Life
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Country life -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction
“And where is such a friend to be found? He must be a very
disinterested friend who would advance thirty thousand pounds.”
“Nobody in this world is quite disinterested, Miss de la Molle; or at
any rate very few are. What would you give to such a friend?”
“I would give anything and everything over which I have control in this
world, to save my father from seeing Honham sold over his head,” she
answered simply.
Edward Cossey laughed a little. “That is a large order,” he said. “Miss
de la Molle, _I_ am disposed to try and find the money to take up these
mortgages. I have not got it, and I shall have to borrow it, and what
is more, I shall have to keep the fact that I have borrowed it a secret
from my father.”
“It is very good of you,” said Ida faintly, “I don’t know what to say.”
For a moment he made no reply, and looking at him, Ida saw that his
hand was trembling.
“Miss de la Molle,” he said, “there is another matter of which I wish
to speak to you. Men are sometimes put into strange positions, partly
through their own fault, partly by force of circumstances, and when in
those positions, are forced down paths that they would not follow.
Supposing, Miss de la Molle, that mine were some such position, and
supposing that owing to that position I could not say to you words
which I should wish to say——”
Ida began to understand now and once more turned aside.
“Supposing, however, that at some future time the difficulties of that
position of which I have spoken were to fade away, and I were then to
speak those words, can you, supposing all this—tell me how they would
be received?”
Ida paused, and thought. She was a strong-natured and clear-headed
woman, and she fully understood the position. On her answer would
depend whether or no the thirty thousand pounds were forthcoming, and
therefore, whether or no Honham Castle would pass from her father and
her race.
“I said just now, Mr. Cossey,” she answered coldly, “that I would give
anything and everything over which I have control in the world, to save
my father from seeing Honham sold over his head. I do not wish to
retract those words, and I think that in them you will find an answer
to your question.”
He coloured. “You put the matter in a very business-like way,” he said.
“It is best put so, Mr. Cossey,” she answered with a faint shade of
bitterness in her tone; “it preserves me from feeling under an
obligation—will you see my father about these mortgages?”
“Yes, to-morrow. And now I will say good-bye to you,” and he took her
hand, and with some little hesitation kissed it. She made no resistance
and showed no emotion.
“Yes,” she answered, “we have been here some time; Mrs. Quest will
wonder what has become of you.”
It was a random arrow, but it went straight home, and for the third
time that day Edward Cossey reddened to the roots of his hair. Without
answering a word he bowed and went.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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