Dime novels; England -- Fiction; Foundlings -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Popular literature
Like a flame of fire, the word “Australia” had set the passion of
jealousy running through his veins, calling up the dormant longing for
revenge that had found a resting-place in his heart. Could he not leave
all that distressed and oppressed him, and rush away to that distant
land, to face him who had stolen the most precious jewel of his life,
to bring shame on her who had deceived and tricked him? The picture of
Margery’s loveliness rose before him and made his heart beat wildly
with the rush of wrath and love that came over him.
“Stuart,” Sir Douglas said, quietly, almost tenderly, “I would ask you
to go with me gladly but for one thing--you are not free--your father
needs you. He could not live without you; go from him, and he will sink
before your return. He is not strong; this summer, he has told me many
times, has tried him terribly, and your accident was a shock.”
“Yes, you are right,” responded Stuart, gloomily, after a moment’s
pause. “I will stay here. And yet it is hard.”
Sir Douglas did not catch the last words.
“I have always loved Sholto,” he said, “and to rob him of you would be
cruel. No, Stuart, your place is here.”
They moved on and approached the house; but before they entered, Sir
Douglas stretched out his hand.
“Heaven bless you, lad!” he said, tenderly. “We may never meet again.
May you have all the happiness and sunshine in your life that a man
such as you ought to expect! Remember your promise.”
“I have sworn, and I will keep it.”
They returned to the castle; and, soon after that, Sir Douglas Gerant
left for London.
His cousin’s visit broke the spell of Stuart’s morbid inactivity. The
monotonous quiet of Hurstley seemed suddenly to appall him. He could no
longer sit and nurse himself; he was restless, almost feverish in his
movements. He went out early in the morning and did not return till
the day was spent; and, though he tried to banish every memory of his
brief dream from his mind, Vane detected the nervous restlessness in
his face. In her heart she rejoiced at these signs of awakening; they
were but the forerunners of that proud, contemptuous mood which she had
longed to see reveal itself. Life was dull at the castle; but, though
she yawned and was inexpressibly bored, she did not intend to give way;
and at last she had the satisfaction of feeling that success was hers
when her aunt announced that Stuart wished the whole party to leave
Crosbie and go to London.
If he remained much longer at Hurstley, Stuart said to himself, the
monotony and inactivity would drive him mad. So, to Vane’s and his
mother’s delight, he proposed a fortnight’s stay in town, a round of
theatres, and such gayeties as a slack season offered, and then a
return to the castle with a large party for the shooting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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