Country homes -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Revenge -- Fiction
"That green chamber--it is a hypocrite," said the solemn old man,
looking drowsily on the smoke that was ascending the chimney, into which
he threw the butt-end of his cigar--"mind you, a hypocrite. I have my
theory. But we will not talk; no--_you_ will be less embarrassed, and
_I_ more useful, with this reserve. For the purpose I have in view I
will do fifty things in which you could and would have no partnership.
Will you peep into that letter, Monsieur?" The ponderous gentleman grew
dramatic here. "Will you place your ear to that door, _s'il vous
plait_--your eye to that keyhole? Will you oblige me by bribing that
domestic with five pounds sterling? Bah! I will be all ear, all
eye--omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent!--by _all_ means for this
END--ay, all means--what _you_ call secret, shabby, blackguard;" and the
sonorous voice of the old man, for the first time since his arrival,
broke into a clangorous burst of laughter, which, subsiding into a sort
of growl, died, at last, quite away. The old gentleman's countenance
looked more thoughtful and a shade darker than he had seen it. Then
rising, he stood with his back to the fire, and fumbled slowly at the
heavy links of his watch-chain, like a ghostly monk telling his beads,
while he gazed, in the abstraction of deep thought, on the face of the
young man.
Suddenly his face grew vigilant, his eyes lighted up, and some stern
lines gathered about them, as he looked down full upon his nephew.
"Guy," said he, "you'll keep your promise--your word--your oath--that
not one syllable of what passes between us is divulged to mortal, and
that all those points on which I have enjoined reserve shall be held by
you scrupulously secret."
Guy bowed his acquiescence.
"What nonsense was that going on at the piano to-night? Well, you need
not answer, but there must be no more of it. I won't burden you with
painful secrets. You will understand me hereafter; but no more of
_that_--observe me."
The old gentleman spoke this injunction with a lowering nod, and that
deliberate and peremptory emphasis to which his metallic tones gave
effect.
Guy heard this, leaning in an unchanged attitude on his elbow over the
chimneypiece, in silence and with downcast eyes.
"Yes, Guy," said the old man, walking suddenly up to him, and clapping
his broad hand upon his shoulder, "I will complete the work I have begun
for you. Have confidence in me, don't mar it, and you shall know all,
and after I am gone, perhaps admire the zealous affection with which I
laboured in your interest. Good-night, and Heaven bless you, dear Guy;"
and so they parted for the night.
Guy Strangways had all his life stood in awe of this reserved despotic
uncle--kind, indulgent in matters of pleasure and of money, but
habitually secret, and whenever he imposed a command, tyrannical. Yet
Guy felt that even here there was kindness; and though he could not
understand his plans, of his motives he could have no doubt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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