Sons of fire, Vol. II.Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
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Sons of fire, Vol. II.
Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
English fiction -- 19th century
"I began to think I had let myself in for a bad thing. What was I to do
with this girl, whose fate I had in some measure taken into my hands?
It had seemed easy enough to bring her to this quiet shelter, which she
might leave in a week or so, braced up and ready to fight her battle
of life--the battle we all have to fight somehow--a self-supporting
young woman. Self-supporting, that was the point. I now remembered with
terror that there is a large class of persons upon this earth whom not
even the scourge of poverty can make self-supporting; a vast multitude
of feeble souls who resign themselves from the beginning of things to
drift upon the stream of life, and are never known to strike out and
swim for any shore, and so drift down to the ocean of death. Of these
are the poor relations for whom something is for ever being done, and
who never do anything for themselves; of these the feeble scions of
patrician family trees, who are always waiting for sinecures under
Government.
"God help her, poor soul, if she was one of these invertebrates; and
God help me in my responsibility towards her.
"I was an only son; the heir to a small estate in Suffolk, and an
income of something under three thousand a year. I was not quite
twenty years of age, and I had to maintain myself at the most
expensive college in Cambridge on an allowance that many of the rich
young men with whom I associated would have considered abject penury. I
was not in a fast set. I did not hunt--indeed, with my modest income,
hunting would have been impossible; but I was not without tastes which
absorbed money; the love of choice books and fine engravings, the fancy
for curios picked up here or there, the presence of which gave interest
to my rooms, and, perhaps, helped to reconcile me to many long hours
within closed doors. I had hitherto been most careful to live within
my income, for I knew that it was as much as my mother could afford to
give me, taking into consideration her devotion to the estate which
was to be mine by-and-by, and the maintenance and improvement of which
had been to her as a religion. Her model cottages, her home-farm,
the village church, to whose every improvement her purse had largely
contributed, these were the sources of expenditure which kept her
comparatively poor, and which forbade any kind of extravagance on my
part.
"All these facts were in my mind that afternoon as I paced the narrow
bounds of old Martha's sitting-room.
"'She will have to get her living,' I said severely, as the result of
these meditations, which showed me no surplus income for philanthropy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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