Erema; Or, My Father's SinBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
History
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
California -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
“Let us hope, then to see him much better to-morrow,” I said, very
bravely, though frightened at heart, being always a coward of thunder.
“What are these storms you get in England compared to the tropical
outbursts? Let us open the window, if you please, and watch it.”
“I hear myself called,” Mrs. Price exclaimed. “I am sorry to leave you,
miss. You know best. But please not to sit by an open window; nothing is
more dangerous.”
“Except a great bunch of steel keys,” I replied; and gazing at her nice
retreating figure, saw it quickened, as a flash of lightning passed,
with the effort of both hands to be quit of something.
The storm was dreadful; and I kept the window shut, but could not help
watching, with a fearful joy, the many-fingered hazy pale vibrations,
the reflections of the levin in the hollow of the land. And sadly I
began to think of Uncle Sam and all his goodness; and how in a storm,
a thousandfold of this, he went down his valley in the torrent of the
waves, and must have been drowned, and perhaps never found again, if he
had not been wearing his leathern apron.
This made me humble, as all great thoughts do, and the sidelong drizzle
in among the heavy rain (from the big drops jostling each other in the
air, and dashing out splashes of difference) gave me an idea of the sort
of thing I was--and how very little more. And feeling rather lonely in
the turn that things had taken, I rang the bell for somebody; and up
came Stixon.
“Lor', miss! Lor', what a burning shame of Prick!--'Prick' we call her,
in our genial moments, hearing as the 'k' is hard in Celtic language;
and all abroad about her husband. My very first saying to you was, not
to be too much okkipied with her. Look at the pinafore on her! Lord be
with me! If his lordship, as caught me, that day of this very same month
fifty years, in the gooseberry bush--”
“To be sure!” I said, knowing that story by heart, together with all its
embellishments; “but things are altered since that day. Nothing can be
more to your credit, I am sure, than to be able to tell such a tale in
the very place where it happened.”
“But, Miss--Miss Erma, I ain't begun to tell it.”
“Because you remember that I am acquainted with it. A thing so
remarkable is not to be forgotten. Now let me ask you a question of
importance; and I beg you, as an old servant of this family, to
answer it carefully and truly. Do you remember any one, either here or
elsewhere, so like my father, Captain Castlewood, as to be taken for
him at first sight, until a difference of expression and of walk was
noticed?”
Mr. Stixon looked at me with some surprise, and then began to think
profoundly, and in doing so he supported his chin with one hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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