Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
General
Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3
Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"No, father--that cannot be. I am no longer a child--a boy; and
it is not in the nature of man to bear, even from a father,
injustice--degradation, such as that to which I am subjected. I ask you
then, that this very night, on this very spot, for once, and for ever,
to let my account be settled between us; and never I solemnly swear,
here or hereafter shall you be troubled by me or my concerns. What I ask
is, that you will give me down a sum of money, just sufficient to pay my
expenses out of this country, and let me work for my bread by the sweat
of my brow, like others whom I know, in one of the distant colonies; for
this I say will be preferable, far preferable, to what you now make me
endure--far more accordant with my feelings of right and honour, than
shackled, degraded in every point, to be goaded, drawn into a profession
for which, besides the original disinclination I felt to embrace it, I
have been rendered still more unfit by the treatment I have received.
Viewing the office as I do, in a light far too sacred to be entered upon
by one, in the spirit and temper of mind to which you have reduced me."
"Well, Sir, well; I admire your pious principles; do as you please;
give up this living. Many a better man than you, no doubt, will be glad
to have it. Go off to Botany Bay, if you will--but beg, borrow, or steal
your way out as you like. I must decline advancing you a farthing
towards that laudable design; all the money you ever get out of me, goes
to making you a parson; choose that, or beggary; for do not suppose that
you will be coming over me a second prodigal son. Go, riot as you will,
but not from me will ever come the wherewithals. Eat the husks, if you
please; but as for the ring, and the fatted calf, and all that--"
"Sir!" interrupted the young man, by a strong effort suppressing the
resentment these taunting words fired in his breast from breaking
through the limits of filial respect. "Far be it from me, to expect such
things at your hands. No, truly, the very husks of the fields _would_ be
far sweeter to my taste than the begrudged bread eaten in my father's
house. And, refused as I am the just and reasonable demand I have made
to-night--determined as you are to show the cruelly childish dependence
to which you have reduced me, willingly would I embrace the other
alternative, and by the sweat of my brow, unaided by you, gain my daily
subsistence, were it not for the one consideration which draws me back,
and renders me powerless to resist--my mother."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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