Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of Life — John Shaqi
Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of LifeSmedley, Frank E. (Frank Edward)
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Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of Life
Smedley, Frank E. (Frank Edward)
English fiction -- 19th century
“Mother, you must forgive me; I am hot and impetuous, and all this has
taken me so completely by surprise. After all, it was only my affection
for you and Rose which made me resent your patronising friend’s
impertinent benevolence; but the fact is, I hope and believe you have
been premature in asking her assistance. I have little doubt I shall
succeed in obtaining a situation or employment of some kind, which will
be sufficiently lucrative to prevent the necessity of your either giving
up the cottage, or being separated from Rose. I have written to Frere
about it, and expect to hear from him in a day or two.”
“My dear boy, would you have us live here in idleness and luxury, while
you are working yourself to death to enable us to do so?” said Mrs.
Arundel, her affection for her son overcoming any feeling of anger which
his opposition to her pet scheme had excited.
“I do not see that the working need involve my death,” replied Lewis.
“Perhaps,” he added, with a smile, “you would prefer my embracing our
Lady Patroness’s scheme of a fourteen years’ sojourn in Norfolk Island.
I think I could accomplish that object without troubling anybody: I
have only to propitiate the Home Office by abstracting a few silver
spoons,--and Government, in its fatherly care, would send me there free
of expense, and probably introduce me to the best society the Island
affords, into the bargain.”
“Poor dear Lady Lombard! I must confess that part of her letter was
rather absurd,” returned Mrs. Arundel; “but we must talk more about this
plan of yours, Lewis; I never can consent to it.”
“You both can and will, my dear mother,” replied Lewis, playfully but
firmly; “however, we will leave this matter in abeyance till I hear from
Frere.”
And thus, peace being restored, they sat down to breakfast forthwith,
Lewis feeling thankful that he had restrained his anger ere it had led
him to say words to his mother which he would have regretted deeply
afterwards, and amply repaid for any effort it might have cost him by
the bright smile and grateful pressure of the hand with which his sister
rewarded him. Happy the man whose guardian angel assumes the form of
such a sister and friend as Rose Arundel!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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