He that will not when he may; vol. IIOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
He that will not when he may; vol. II
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
A slight redness came over Gus’s brown face. He laughed angrily. “Yes,
you will have to consider my claims,” he said. And then after a little
hesitation, he went away. This disturbed the current of Paul’s languid,
yet intense, consciousness. He felt a horror of the man who had thus, he
thought, intruded the recollection of his father’s early errors to cloud
the perfect honour and regret with which he was to be carried to his
grave. The interruption hurt and wounded him. Of course the fellow would
have to be silenced--bought off at almost any price--rather than
communicate to the world this stigma upon the dead. By and by, however,
as he went on, the harshness of this jarring note floated away in the
intense calm and peace of the sweet atmosphere of the morning which
surrounded him. The country was more hushed than usual, as if in
sympathy with what was to happen to-day. The very birds stirred softly
among the trees, giving place, it might have been supposed, to that
plaintive coo of the wood pigeon “moaning for its mate” which is the
very voice of the woods. A soft awe seemed over all the earth--an awe
that to the young man seemed to concern as much his own life which was,
as the other which was ending. The same awe crept into his own heart as
he went towards his home, that temple of grief and mourning, from which
all the sunshine was shut out. There seemed to rise up within him a
sudden sense of the responsibilities of the future, a sudden warmth of
resolution which brought the tears to his eyes.
“I will be good,” said the little princess, when she heard of the great
kingdom that was coming to her; and Paul, though he was not a child to
use that simple phraseology, felt the same. The follies of the past were
all departed like clouds. He was the head of the family--the universal
guardian. It lay with him to see that all were cared for, all kept from
evil; the fortune of many was in his hands; power had come to him--real
power, not visionary uncertain influence such as he had once thought the
highest of possibilities. “I will be good”--this thought swelled up
within him, filling his heart.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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