Sink or swim? : $b a novel; vol. 3/3Houstoun, Mrs. (Matilda Charlotte)
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Sink or swim? : $b a novel; vol. 3/3
Houstoun, Mrs. (Matilda Charlotte)
English fiction -- 19th century
“Mother,” he said almost sternly, “for once in my life I will speak to
you openly. It will be the first time and the last; for you are not
one, or I am greatly mistaken, to forgive the words that I shall use.
From our childhood you never, _never_ treated us as if you loved us. As
a little fellow, so little, I remember, that I could scarcely reach the
table with my hand--as a small boy--troublesome, I daresay, as all young
children are, but not _more_ depraved and wicked than others--I
longed--O, _how_ I used to long!--for love and tenderness from you. When
I saw other mothers kiss and pet their children, holding them upon their
knees, and looking with delight and pride upon their play and laughter,
I can never describe to you the bitter envy that I felt, and with what a
sore, sad heart I thought upon the difference between them and me! And
it was the same with all of us. We have compared notes many times since
those days, and have told each other--we four children, whom my father
left a legacy to you; ah, shall I ever forget his dying words?--that we
only wanted love, only the common tenderness shown by all God’s
creatures to their young, and that, having it, we would return it fifty,
ay, a hundredfold! But--and well you know it, mother--we had it not,
that love we yearned for; and failing the boon we craved, we all
went”--and he smiled bitterly--“more or less, and in different ways,
according to our respective powers and sexes, to the bad. There is
Arthur, poor dear Atty,” and his lip quivered painfully, “gone, without
a word--excepting that he confessed some things to that poor
broken-hearted old man which would make your cheek, ma’am, grow red with
shame, although you love him not, to hear of. It seems, he was
reduced--I and some others think that the fault was not _quite_ all his
own--to do some ugly thing which, but for the law-business of which you
speak so lightly, need never have been known, and--”
“Ah, I understand,” put in Lady Millicent, endeavouring to hide her
confusion and annoyance under a mask of carelessness and sarcasm.
“Difficulties in the way of raising money, eh? But that is over now,”
she added bitterly, “and I suppose that your brother need not, as
matters now stand, fly the country because he does not happen to be able
to pay his bills.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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