Bildungsromans; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; First loves -- Fiction; Ireland -- Fiction
“And I’ve been beastly to you,” I went on.
“Oh, nonsense.”
He was silent again till he said, “There’s one way, but I know you
won’t take it.”
“What is it?”
“Come back with me, and spend the rest of your holidays with me.”
I lay quiet.
“Will you?”
In the dark I shook my head. Then, remembering he could not see me, I
answered, “No: I can’t.”
“Why not? It is only a matter of will.”
“But I haven’t any will, except to get what I want.”
“You could try it for a few days.”
“No. There are not a great many days altogether. They will be leaving
before the end of the month.”
“Well, if you should change your mind, come at any time――I mean without
bothering to write.”
“Very well.”
Owen was silent so long that I thought he had dropped asleep, when
suddenly he spoke again.
“Peter?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know if you were asleep or not. It is this. I wrote to my
people about you――about your having to go to lodgings when you come up
to town after summer; and they want you to come to live with us.”
I felt myself grow hot with shame.
“You see there are plenty of bedrooms,” Owen went on, “and my study, I
daresay, would do for both of us to work in. I hope you’ll come: they
all want you to. If you think of it I’ll speak to your father; but of
course if you’d rather be in ‘digs’ by yourself, it would be better for
me not to mention it to him.”
“Do you really want me to come?” I asked.
“Of course I want you.”
“I mean, do you really and truly want me?”
He laughed pleasantly. “Of course I really and truly want you.”
“You’re not doing it out of kindness or anything like that?”
“The kindness will be all on your side.”
“No: but I mean it. You must tell me.”
“I suggested it because I’d like to have you. I wasn’t a bit sure
whether you’d come or not. My reason for asking you is exactly the same
as my reason for asking you every Sunday to come for a walk with me.”
“I’ll come,” I said. “Thanks awfully.” But my pleasure was spoiled by
the remorse I felt for my own conduct as host. It seemed to me I was a
fairly second-rate specimen of humanity, hardly good enough to be taken
out and drowned.
CHAPTER XLVIII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account