“Which is about the least likely thing in the world, Lucy,” said he,
answering her unspoken sentence. “I am just the sort of creature he
could n't abide,--not to add that, from all I have heard of him, I 'd
rather take three years with hard labor at the hulks than live with him.
It will do very well with you. You have patience, and a soft forgiving
disposition. You 'll fancy yourself, besides, Heaven knows what of a
heroine, for submitting to his atrocious temper, and imagine slavery to
be martyrdom. Now, I could n't. I 'd let him understand that I was one
of the family, and had a born right to be as ill-tempered, as selfish,
and as unmannerly as any other Lendrick.”
“But if he should like you, Tom? If you made a favorable impression upon
him when you met?”
“If I should, I think I 'd go over to South Carolina, and ask some one
to buy me as a negro, for I 'd know in my heart it was all I could be
fit for.”
“Oh, my dear, dear Tom, I wish you would meet him in a different spirit,
if only for poor papa's sake. You know what store he lays by grandpapa's
affection.”
“I see it, and it puzzles me. If any one should continue to ill-treat
me for five-and-twenty years, I 'd not think of beginning to forgive him
till after fifty more, and I 'm not quite sure I 'd succeed then.”
“But you are to meet him, Tom,” said she, hopefully. “I trust much to
your meeting.”
“That 's more than I do, Lucy. Indeed, I 'd not go at all, except on the
condition which I have made with myself, to accept nothing from him.
I had not meant to tell you this; but it has escaped me, and can't
be helped. Don't hang your head and pout your lip over that bad boy,
brother Tom. I intend to be as submissive and as humble in our interview
as if I was going to owe my life to him, just because I want him to be
very kind and gracious to you; and I 'd not wish to give him any reason
for saying harsh things of me, which would hurt you to listen to. If I
only knew how--and I protest I do not--I'd even try and make a favorable
impression upon him, for I 'd like to be able to come and see you, Lucy,
now and then, and it would be a sore blow to me if he forbade me.”
“You don't think I'd remain under his roof if he should do so?” asked
she, indignantly.
“Not if you saw him turn me away,--shutting the door in my face; but
what scores of civil ways there are of intimating that one is not
welcome! But why imagine all these?--none of them may happen; and, as
Sir Brook says, the worst misfortunes of life are those that never come
to us; and I, for one, am determined to deal only with real, actual,
present enemies. Is n't he a rare old fellow?--don't you like him,
Lucy?”
“I like him greatly.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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