The Disowned — Volume 05Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Disowned — Volume 05
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
The next day he recommenced his journey. Westborough Park, was,
though in another county, within a short ride of W----; but, as he
approached it, the character of the scenery became essentially
changed. Bare, bold, and meagre, the features of the country bore
somewhat of a Scottish character. On the right side of the road was a
precipitous and perilous descent, and some workmen were placing posts
along a path for foot-passengers on that side nearest the carriage-
road, probably with a view to preserve unwary coachmen or equestrians
from the dangerous vicinity of the descent, which a dark night might
cause them to incur. As Clarence looked idly on the workmen, and
painfully on the crumbling and fearful descent I have described, he
little thought that that spot would, a few years after, become the
scene of a catastrophe affecting in the most powerful degree the
interests of his future life. Our young traveller put up his horse at
a small inn, bearing the Westborough arms, and situated at a short
distance from the park gates. Now that he was so near his mistress--
now that less than an hour, nay, than the fourth part of an hour,
might place him before her, and decide his fate--his heart, which had
hitherto sustained him, grew faint, and presented, first fear, then
anxiety, and, at last, despondency to his imagination and forebodings.
"At all events," said he, "I will see her alone before I will confer
with her artful and proud mother or her cipher of a father. I will
then tell her all my history, and open to her all my secrets: I will
only conceal from her my present fortunes; for even if rumour should
have informed her of them, it will be easy to give the report no
sanction; I have a right to that trial. When she is convinced that,
at least, neither my birth nor character can disgrace her, I shall see
if her love can enable her to overlook my supposed poverty and to
share my uncertain lot. If so, there will be some triumph in
undeceiving her error and rewarding her generosity; if not, I shall be
saved from involving my happiness with that of one who looks only to
my worldly possessions. I owe it to her, it is true, to show her that
I am no low-born pretender: but I owe it also to myself to ascertain
if my own individual qualities are sufficient to gain her hand."
Fraught with these ideas, which were natural enough to a man whose
peculiar circumstances were well calculated to make him feel rather
soured and suspicious, and whose pride had been severely wounded by
the contempt with which his letter had been treated, Clarence walked
into the park, and, hovering around the house, watched and waited that
opportunity of addressing Lady Flora, which he trusted her habits of
walking would afford him; but hours rolled away, the evening set in,
and Lady Flora had not once quitted the house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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