In the Dead of Night: A Novel. Volume 1 (of 3)Speight, T. W. (Thomas Wilkinson)
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In the Dead of Night: A Novel. Volume 1 (of 3)
Speight, T. W. (Thomas Wilkinson)
English fiction -- 19th century
“But what have you to pity me for?” asked Lionel, without heeding the
interruption. “I have enough to eat and drink, I have a roof to cover
me, and a bed to sleep on. In these important matters I should be no
better off if I had ten thousand a-year. As for the society of boors
and fishermen, believe me, there is more strength of character, more
humour, more pathos, more patient endurance of the ills of this life,
and a firmer trust in Providence, among these simple folk than I ever
found among those whom you would term my equals in the social scale.
Then your ambitions and aims, dignify them with what fine names you
will, what are they, nine times out of ten, but the mere vulgar desire
to grow rich as quickly as possible! So long as I can earn my bread by
the sweat of my brow, and owe no man a penny, I am perfectly
satisfied.”
“Argue as you will, Dering, this is neither the place nor the position
for a man like you.”
“So long as the place and position suit me, and I them, we shall remain
in perfect accord, and no longer,” said Lionel. “I never said that it
was my intention to live a hermit all my life; but at present I am
perfectly satisfied.”
Again and again, before Tom Bristow’s enforced stay at Gatehouse Farm
came to an end, was the same subject broached between him and Lionel,
but always with the same result. As Lionel often said to himself, he
was utterly without ambition. He was like a man whose active career in
the world was at an end; who knowing that life could have no more
prizes in store for him, had settled down quietly in his old age,
content to let the race go by, and wait uncomplainingly for the end. It
is probable, nay, almost certain, that had his uneventful life at
Gatehouse Farm been destined to last much longer, old desires and
feelings would gradually have awakened within him; that in time he
would have found his way again into that busy world on which he had
turned his back in a transient fit of disgust, and there have fought
the fight before him like the good and true man he really was at heart.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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