Ernest Maltravers — Volume 07Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
Ernest Maltravers — Volume 07
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
Here Mrs. Templeton was interrupted by the entrance of her husband. He
held the letter from Lord Saxingham--it was yet unopened. He seemed
moody; but that was common with him. He coldly shook hands with Lumley;
nodded to his wife, found fault with the fire, and throwing himself into
his easy-chair, said, "So, Lumley, I think I was a fool for taking your
advice--and hanging back about this new election. I see by the evening
papers that there is shortly to be a creation of peers. If I had shown
activity on behalf of the government I might have shamed them into
gratitude."
"I think I was right, sir," replied Lumley; "public men are often
alarmed into gratitude, seldom shamed into it. Firm votes, like old
friends, are most valued when we think we are about to lose them; but
what is that letter in your hand?"
"Oh, some begging petition, I suppose."
"Pardon me--it has an official look." Templeton put on his spectacles,
raised the letter, examined the address and seal, hastily opened it, and
broke into an exclamation very like an oath: when he had concluded--"
Give me your hand, nephew--the thing is settled--I am to have the
peerage. You were right--ha, ha!--my dear wife, you will be my lady,
think of that--aren't you glad?--why don't your ladyship smile? Where's
the child--where is she, I say?"
"Gone to bed, sir," said Mrs. Templeton, half frightened.
"Gone to bed! I must go and kiss her. Gone to bed, has she? Light
that candle, Lumley." [Here Mr. Templeton rang the bell.] "John," said
he, as the servant entered,--"John, tell James to go the first thing in
the morning to Baxter's, and tell him not to paint my chariot till he
hears from me. I must go kiss the child--I must, really."
"D--- the child," muttered Lumley, as, after giving the candle to his
uncle, he turned to the fire; "what the deuce has she got to do with the
matter? Charming little girl--yours, madam! how I love her! My uncle
dotes on her--no wonder!"
"He is, indeed, very, very, fond of her," said Mrs. Templeton, with a
sigh that seemed to come from the depth of her heart.
"Did he take a fancy to her before you were married?"
"Yes, I believe--oh yes, certainly."
"Her own father could not be more fond of her."
Mrs. Templeton made no answer, but lighted her candle, and wishing
Lumley good night, glided from the room.
"I wonder if my grave aunt and my grave uncle took a bite at the apple
before they bought the right of the tree. It looks suspicious; yet no,
it can't be; there is nothing of the seducer or the seductive about the
old fellow. It is not likely--here he comes."
In came Templeton, and his eyes were moist, and his brow relaxed.
"And how is the little angel, sir?" asked Ferrers.
"She kissed me, though I woke her up; children are usually cross when
wakened."
"Are they?--little dears! Well, sir, so I was right, then; may I see
the letter?"
"There it is."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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