Springhaven: A Tale of the Great WarBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
History
Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Great Britain -- History -- Regency, 1800-1837 -- Fiction
“I am sure every time I have heard a gun coming from the sea, and
especially after dark,” the lady resumed, without thinking of him, “it
has made me miserable to know that probably Blyth was rushing into some
deadly conflict. But now I shall feel that he cannot do that; and I hope
they will keep him until the fighting grows milder. He used to send me
all his money, poor dear boy! And now I shall try to send him some of
mine, if it can be arranged about bank-notes. And now I can do it very
easily, thanks to your kindness, Sir Charles, his father's best friend,
and his own, and mine.”
Lady Scudamore shed another tear or two, not of sorrow, but of pride,
while she put her hand into her pocket, as if to begin the remittance at
once. “You owe me no thanks, ma'am,” said the Admiral, smiling; “if any
thanks are due, they are due to the King, for remembering at last what
he should have done before.”
“Would he ever have thought of me, but for you? It is useless to talk
in that way, Sir Charles; it only increases the obligation, which I must
entreat you not to do. How I wish I could help you in anything!”
“Every day you are helping me,” he replied, with truth; “although I am
away too often to know all about it, or even to thank you. I hope my
dear Faith has persuaded you not to leave us for the winter, as you
threatened.”
“Faith can persuade me to anything she pleases. She possesses the power
of her name,” replied the lady; “but the power is not called for, when
the persuasion is so pleasant. For a month, I must be away to visit my
dear mother, as I always have done at this time of year; and then, but
for one thing, I would return most gladly. For I am very selfish, you
must know, Sir Charles--I have a better chance of hearing of my dear
son at these head-quarters of the defence of England, than I should have
even in London.”
“Certainly,” cried the Admiral, who magnified his office; “such a number
of despatches pass through my hands; and if I can't make them out, why,
my daughter Dolly can. I don't suppose, Lady Scudamore, that even when
you lived in the midst of the world you ever saw any girl half so
clever as my Dolly. I don't let her know it--that would never do, of
course--but she always gets the best of me, upon almost any question.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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