The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — CompleteLever, Charles
General
The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Complete
Lever, Charles
Fiction
The day happened to be particularly calm and delightful, so that we
never left the deck; and the six hours which brought us from land to
land, quickly passed over in this manner; and ere we reached “the
Head,” I had become the warm friend and legal adviser of the mother;
and with the daughter I was installed as chief confidant of all her
griefs and sorrows, both of which appointments cost me a solemn promise
to take care of them till their arrival in Paris, where they had many
friends and acquaintances awaiting them. Here, then, as usual, was the
invincible facility with which I gave myself up to any one who took the
trouble to influence me. One thing, nevertheless, I was determined on,
to let no circumstance defer my arrival at Paris a day later than was
possible: therefore, though my office as chaperon might diminish my
comforts en route, it should not interfere with the object before me.
Had my mind not been so completely engaged with my own immediate
prospects, when hope suddenly and unexpectedly revived, had become so
tinged with fears and doubts as to be almost torture, I must have been
much amused with my present position, as I found myself seated with my
two fair friends, rolling along through Wales in their comfortable
travelling carriage—giving all the orders at the different
hotels—seeing after the luggage—and acting en maitre in every respect.
The good widow enjoyed particularly the difficulty which my precise
position, with regard to her and her daughter, threw the different
innkeepers on the road into, sometimes supposing me to be her husband,
sometimes her son, and once her son-in-law; which very alarming
conjecture brought a crimson tinge to the fair daughter’s cheek, an
expression, which, in my ignorance, I thought looked very like an
inclination to faint in my arms.
At length we reached London, and having been there safely installed at
“Mivart’s,” I sallied forth to present my letter to the Horse Guards,
and obtain our passport for the continent.
“Number nine, Poland-street, sir” said the waiter, as I inquired the
address of the French Consul. Having discovered that my interview with
the commander-in-chief was appointed for four o’clock, I determined to
lose no time, but make every possible arrangement for leaving London in
the morning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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