In furthest Ind : $b The narrative of Mr Edward Carlyon of the honourable East India Company's serviceGrier, Sydney C.
General
In furthest Ind : $b The narrative of Mr Edward Carlyon of the honourable East India Company's service
Grier, Sydney C.
British -- India -- Fiction; East India Company -- Fiction; India -- Fiction
“Then this,” said he, “is my counsel. Send word at once to Sir
Ambrose, begging him and the other gentlemen that are interested in
the matter, and in especial Mr Spender himself, to meet you in a
private room at the inn an hour before the dancing begin. Say that you
hope to have an answer to the charges, but make no mention of me, and
bid your servants not betray my arrival to any one in the town. ’Tis
well I came from the t’other side of you, and so had no need to pass
through Puckle Acton.”
“Then you can confute this man Spender, sir?” asks Dorothy.
“Madam,” says he, “I make no doubt but to-morrow we shall see a very
pretty comedy played in the inn-parlour. _The False Charge, or the
Accuser Unmasked_, hath an agreeable sound, han’t it? They say, _He
that mischief hatcheth, mischief catcheth_, and methinks Mr Vane
Spender won’t find it otherwise.”
“You are indeed an angel, sir,” says Dorothy, and kissed him on the
forehead.
“Nay,” says he, “though I could wish I were, if I should always be
rewarded thus.” And so, with much laughter, to the business of writing
a billet for Loll Duss to carry to Sir Ambrose his house, and this
despatched, to talking of Surat and the sore changes there, and
likewise the great ambition and strange doings of the Emperor Auren
Zeeb in his wars in Duccan, which all was as a breath of native air to
me, and filled me with great contentment to speak on’t. And thus the
day passed agreeably enough, and the earlier part of the next
likewise, until it was high time to prepare for the ball. And for this
we dressed ourselves with prodigious care, not choosing by any lack of
neatness in our apparel to give cause for them that saw us to say that
we had lost confidence in the justice of our cause, and so sought to
move pity by our neglected aspect. And indeed, when my wife was
dressed, she looked as well as I have ever seen her, wearing a gown of
very rich brocado, the colours blue and gold, and her lace prodigious
fine. Likewise also she was wearing the pearls that Mr Martin had sent
her on our marriage, and this piece of gentle flattery did please our
old friend mightily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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