Paul Clifford — Volume 07Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
Paul Clifford — Volume 07
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Brigands and robbers -- Fiction
"I shall recover him yet!" he broke out suddenly and aloud. As he spoke,
a quick, darting, spasmodic pain ran shivering through his whole frame,
and then fixed for one instant on his heart with a gripe like the talons
of a bird; it passed away, and was followed by a deadly sickness.
Brandon rose, and filling himself a large tumbler of water, drank with
avidity. The sickness passed off like the preceding pain; but the
sensation had of late been often felt by Brandon, and disregarded,--for
few persons were less afflicted with the self-torture of hypochondria;
but now, that night, whether it was more keen than usual, or whether his
thought had touched on the string that jars naturally on the most
startling of human anticipations, we know not, but, as he resumed his
seat, the idea of his approaching dissolution shot like an ice-bolt
through his breast.
So intent was this scheming man upon the living objects of the world, and
so little were his thoughts accustomed to turn toward the ultimate goal
of all things, that this idea obtruding itself abruptly upon him,
startled him with a ghastly awe. He felt the colour rush from his cheek,
and a tingling and involuntary pain ran wandering through the channels of
his blood, even from the roots of the hair to the soles of his feet. But
the stern soul of Brandon was not one which shadows could long affright.
He nerved himself to meet the grim thought thus forced upon his mental
eye, and he gazed on it with a steady and enduring look.
"Well," thought he, "is my hour coming, or have I yet the ordinary term
of mortal nature to expect? It is true, I have lately suffered these
strange revulsions of the frame with somewhat of an alarming frequency;
perhaps this medicine, which healed the anguish of one infirmity, has
produced another more immediately deadly. Yet why should I think this?
My sleep is sound and calm, my habits temperate, my mind active and clear
as in its best days. In my youth I never played the traitor with my
constitution; why should it desert me at the very threshold of my age?
Nay, nay, these are but passing twitches, chills of the blood that begins
to wax thin. Shall I learn to be less rigorous in my diet? Perhaps wine
may reward my abstinence in avoiding it for my luxuries, by becoming a
cordial to my necessities! Ay, I will consult,--I will consult, I must
not die yet. I have--let me see, three--four grades to gain before the
ladder is scaled. And, above all, I must regain my child! Lucy married
to Mauleverer, myself a peer, my son wedded to-whom? Pray God he be not
married already! My nephews and my children nobles! the house of Brandon
restored, my power high in the upward gaze of men, my fame set on a more
lasting basis than a skill in the quirks of law,--these are yet to come;
these I will not die till I have enjoyed! Men die not till their
destinies are fulfilled. The spirit that swells and soars within me says
that the destiny of William Brandon is but half begun!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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