Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 2Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 2
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Cousins -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction
'My Lords,' he began, 'gentlemen and ladies and neighbours, my Lord
Fitzjocelyn has done my wife and myself an honour as unlooked-for as
undeserved; and the manner of the favour is such that we shall carry
the grateful remembrance to the end of our lives. He has been so
condescending as to speak of such services as it was in our power to
render; but he has passed over in silence that which gives him a claim
to the utmost that I could place at his feet. He will forgive me for
speaking openly, for I cannot refrain from disburthening my mind, and
letting you know, even more than you are at present aware of, what your
Senor--what your Lord truly is. Most of you have known me but too
well. It is not ten years since I was a rude, untaught boy upon the
heath, such as a large proportion of those present would deem beneath
their notice: Lord Fitzjocelyn did not think so. His kindness of
manner and encouraging words awakened in me new life and energy. He
gave me his time and his teaching, and, what was far more, he gave me
his sympathy and his example. It was these which gave vitality to
lessons dimly understood, or which had fallen dead on my ears, when
only heard in my irregular attendance at school. But the work in me was
tardy, and at first I requited his kindness with presumption,
insubordination, and carelessness. Then, when I had been dismissed,
and when my wilful neglect had occasioned the accident of which the
traces are still only too visible, then, did I not merit to be exposed
and cast off for ever? I knew it, and I fled, as if I could leave
behind me my grief and my shame. Little did I dare to guess that he
was dealing with me as though I had been his own brother, and
scrupulously concealing my share in the misfortune. When I returned,
sullen and overwhelmed, he alone--yes! and while still suffering
severely--spoke a kind word to me, and exerted himself to rescue me
from the utter ruin and degradation to which despair would have led me.
He placed me in the situation which conducted me to my present
position; he gave me the impulse to improve myself; and, above all, he
infused into me the principles without which the rest would have been
mere temptations. If I have been blest beyond my deserts--if I have
been prosperous beyond reasonable expectation--if, among numerous
failures, I have withstood some evils--all, under the greatest and
highest Benefactor, is owing to the kindness, and, above all, to the
generous forbearance of Lord Fitzjocelyn. I wish I could testify my
gratitude in any better manner than by speaking of him to his face; but
I am sure you will all drink his health more heartily, if possible, for
knowing one more trait in addition to your own personal experience of
his character!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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