The Adventures of Harry Richmond — Volume 1Meredith, George
General
The Adventures of Harry Richmond — Volume 1
Meredith, George
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction
I found the portrait in my hand, and Heriot between me and the usher, in
the attitude of a fellow keeping another out of his home at prisoner's-
base. He had spied Mr. Rippenger's head at the playground gate. I had
just time to see Heriot and the usher in collision before I ran through
the gate and into Julia's arms in her garden, whither the dreadful
prospect of an approaching catastrophe had attracted her.
Heriot was merely reported guilty of insolence. He took his five hundred
lines of Virgil with his usual sarcastic dignity: all he said to Mr.
Rippenger was, 'Let it be about Dido, sir,' which set several of the boys
upon Dido's history, but Heriot was condemned to the battles with Turnus.
My share in this event secured Heriot's friendship to me without costing
me the slightest inconvenience. 'Papa would never punish you,' Julia
said; and I felt my rank. Nor was it wonderful I should when Mr.
Rippenger was constantly speaking of my father's magnificence in my
presence before company. Allowed to draw on him largely for pocket-
money, I maintained my father's princely reputation in the school. At
times, especially when the holidays arrived and I was left alone with
Julia, I had fits of mournfulness, and almost thought the boys happier
than I was. Going home began to seem an unattainable thing to me.
Having a father, too, a regular father, instead of a dazzling angel that
appeared at intervals, I considered a benefaction, in its way, some
recompense to the boys, for their not possessing one like mine. My
anxiety was relieved by my writing letters to my father, addressed to the
care of Miss Julia Rippenger, and posting them in her work-basket. She
favoured me with very funny replies, signed, 'Your own ever-loving Papa,'
about his being engaged killing Bengal tigers and capturing white
elephants, a noble occupation that gave me exciting and consolatory
dreams of him.
We had at last a real letter of his, dated from a foreign city; but he
mentioned nothing of coming to me. I understood that Mr. Rippenger was
disappointed with it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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