Ernest Maltravers — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
Ernest Maltravers — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
The hovel stood so remote from all other habitations, and the waste
around was so bare of trees, and even shrubs, that Alice saw with
despair that all hope of flight in such a place would be indeed a
chimera. But to make assurance doubly sure, Darvil himself, lifting her
from the cart, conducted her up a broken and unlighted staircase, into a
sort of loft rather than a room, and, rudely pushing her in, turned the
key upon her, and descended. The weather was cold, the livid damps hung
upon the distained walls, and there was neither fire nor hearth; but
thinly clad as she was--her cloak and shawl her principal covering--she
did not feel the cold, for her heart was more chilly than the airs of
heaven. At noon an old woman brought her some food, which, consisting of
fish and poached game, was better than might have been expected in such
a place, and what would have been deemed a feast under her father’s
roof. With an inviting leer, the crone pointed to a pewter measure of
raw spirits that accompanied the viands, and assured her, in a cracked
and maudlin voice, that “‘Old Tom’ was a kinder friend than any of the
young fellers!” This intrusion ended, Alice was again left alone till
dusk, when Darvil entered with a bundle of clothes, such as are worn by
the peasants of that primitive district of England.
“There, Alley,” said he, “put on this warm toggery; finery won’t do now.
We must leave no scent in the track; the hounds are after us, my little
blowen. Here’s a nice stuff gown for you, and a red cloak that would
frighten a turkey-cock. As to the other cloak and shawl, don’t be
afraid; they sha’n’t go to the pop-shop, but we’ll take care of them
against we get to some large town where there are young fellows with
blunt in their pockets; for you seem to have already found out that your
face is your fortune, Alley. Come, make haste, we must be starting.
I shall come up for you in ten minutes. Pish! don’t be faint hearted;
here, take ‘Old Tom’--take it, I say. What, you won’t? Well, here’s to
your health, and a better taste to you!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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