The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 05 — John Shaqi
The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 05Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 05
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century; Families -- Fiction
"Have you a sister?" asked Lady Ellinor.
"No."
"And Trevanion has no son," she said, mournfully. The blood rushed to
my cheeks. Oh, young fool again! We were both silent, when the door
opened, and Mr. Trevanion entered. "Humph!" said he, smiling as he saw
me,--and his smile was charming, though rare. "Humph, young sir, I came
to seek for you,--I have been rude, I fear; pardon it. That thought has
only just occurred to me, so I left my Blue Books, and my amanuensis
hard at work on them, to ask you to come out for half an hour,--just
half an hour, it is all I can give you: a deputation at one! You dine
and sleep here, of course?"
"Ah, sir, my mother will be so uneasy if I am not in town to-night!"
"Pooh!" said the member; "I'll send an express."
"Oh, no indeed; thank you."
"Why not?"
I hesitated. "You see, sir, that my father and mother are both new to
London; and though I am new too, yet they may want me,--I may be of
use." Lady Ellinor put her hand on my head and sleeked down my hair as
I spoke.
"Right, young man, right; you will do in the world, wrong as that is. I
don't mean that you'll succeed, as the rogues say,--that's another
question; but if you don't rise, you'll not fall. Now put on your hat
and come with me; we'll walk to the lodge,--you will be in time for a
coach."
I took my leave of Lady Ellinor, and longed to say something about
"compliments to Miss Fanny;" but the words stuck in my throat, and my
host seemed impatient.
"We must see you soon again," said Lady Ellinor, kindly, as she followed
us to the door.
Mr. Trevanion walked on briskly and in silence, one hand in his bosom,
the other swinging carelessly a thick walkingstick.
"But I must go round by the bridge," said I, "for I forgot my knapsack.
I threw it off when I made my leap, and the old lady certainly never
took charge of it."
"Come, then, this way. How old are you?"
"Seventeen and a half."
"You know Latin and Greek as they know them at schools, I suppose?"
"I think I know them pretty well, sir."
"Does your father say so?"
"Why, my father is fastidious; however, he owns that he is satisfied on
the whole."
"So am I, then. Mathematics?"
"A little."
"Good."
Here the conversation dropped for some time. I had found and restrapped
the knapsack, and we were near the lodge, when Mr. Trevanion said
abruptly, "Talk, my young friend, talk; I like to hear you talk,--it
refreshes me. Nobody has talked naturally to me these last ten years."
The request was a complete damper to my ingenuous eloquence; I could not
have talked naturally now for the life of me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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