The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 06Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 06
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century; Families -- Fiction
"Tush, uncle! I must work hard and get money; and then we will repair
the old tower and buy back the old estate. My father shall sell the red
brick house; we will fit him up a library in the keep; and we will all
live united, in peace, and in state, as grand as our ancestors before
us."
While I thus spoke, my uncle's eyes were fixed upon a corner of the
street, where a figure, half in shade, half in moonlight, stood
motionless. "Ah!" said I, following his eye, "I have observed that man
two or three times pass up and down the street on the other side of the
way and turn his head towards our window. Our guests were with us then,
and my father in full discourse, or I should have--"
Before I could finish the sentence my uncle, stifling an exclamation,
broke away, hurried out of the room, stumped down the stairs, and was in
the street, while I was yet rooted to the spot with surprise. I
remained at the window, and my eye rested on the figure. I saw the
Captain, with his bare head and his gray hair, cross the street; the
figure started, turned the corner, and fled.
Then I followed my uncle, and arrived in time to save him from falling;
he leant his head on my breast, and I heard him murmur: "It is he--it is
he! He has watched us!---he repents!"
CHAPTER V.
The next day Lady Ellinor called; but, to my great disappointment,
without Fanny.
Whether or not some joy at the incident of the previous night had served
to rejuvenate my uncle, I know not, but he looked to me ten years
younger when Lady Ellinor entered. How carefully the buttoned-up coat
was brushed; how new and glossy was the black stock! The poor Captain
was restored to his pride, and mighty proud he looked! with a glow on
his cheek and a fire in his eye, his head thrown back, and his whole air
composed, severe, Mavortian, and majestic, as if awaiting the charge of
the French cuirassiers at the head of his detachment.
My father, on the contrary, was as usual (till dinner, when he always
dressed punctiliously, out of respect to his Kitty), in his easy
morning-gown and slippers; and nothing but a certain compression in his
lips, which had lasted all the morning, evinced his anticipation of the
visit, or the emotion it caused him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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