Artists -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"I wish it, if you please;" and reiterated his commands to the servant,
who left the room. "I have fully decided, Gertrude, on the step I am
about to take. To-morrow those forged bills will be mine. I saw young
Latham at Farquhar's, and he said--" Lord Beauport's voice shook
here--"said everything that was kind and noble; and Hinchenbrook has
said the same to Farquhar. It--it cannot be kept quiet, of course.
Every club is probably ringing with it now; but they will let me have
the bills. And from this moment, Gertrude, that boy's name must never
be uttered, save in our prayers--in our prayers for his forgiveness
and--and repentance--by you, his mother; by me his father,--nor by any
one in this house. He is dead to us for ever!"
"Beauport, for Heaven's sake--"
"I swear it, Gertrude, I swear it! and most solemnly will keep the
oath. I have sent for Caterham, who must know, of course; his good
sense will approve what I have done; and for Annie, she is part of our
household now, and must be told. Dead to us all henceforth; dead to us
all!"
He sank into a chair opposite the fire and buried his face in his
hands, but roused himself at advancing footsteps. The door opened, and
a servant entered, pushing before him a library-chair fitted on large
wheels, in which sat a man of about thirty, of slight spare frame, with
long arms and thin womanly hands--a delicately-handsome man, with a
small head, soft grey eyes, and an almost feminine mouth; a man whom
Nature had intended for an Apollo, whom fortune had marked for her
sport, blighting his childhood with some mysterious disease for which
the doctors could find neither name nor cure, sapping his marrow and
causing his legs to wither into the shrunken and useless members which
now hung loosely before him utterly without strength, almost without
shape, incapable of bearing his weight, and rendering him maimed,
crippled, blasted for life. This was Viscount Caterham, Earl Beauport's
eldest son, and heir to his title and estates. His father cast one
short, rapid glance at him as he entered, and then turned to the person
who immediately followed him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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