The Disowned — Volume 07Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Disowned — Volume 07
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
It was about the goodly hour of noon, and the persons assembled were
six in number, all members of the most violent party, and generally
considered by friend and foe as embracers of republican tenets. One
of these, a little, oily, corpulent personage, would have appeared far
too sleek and well fed for a disturber of things existing, had not a
freckled, pimpled, and fiery face, a knit brow, and a small black eye
of intolerable fierceness belied the steady and contented appearance
of his frame and girth. This gentleman, by name Christopher
Culpepper, spoke in a quick, muffled, shuffling sort of tone, like the
pace of a Welsh pony, somewhat lame, perfectly broken-winded, but an
exemplary ambler for all that.
Next to him sat, with hands clasped over his knees, a thin, small man,
with a countenance prematurely wrinkled and an air of great dejection.
Poor Castleton! his had been, indeed, the bitter lot of a man, honest
but weak, who attaches himself, heart and soul, to a public cause
which, in his life at least, is hopeless. Three other men were
sitting by the open window, disputing, with the most vehement
gestures, upon the character of Wilkes; and at the other window,
alone, silent, and absorbed, sat a man whose appearance and features
were singularly calculated to arrest and to concentrate attention.
His raven hair, grizzled with the first advance of age, still
preserved its strong, wiry curl and luxuriant thickness. His brows,
large, bushy, and indicative of great determination, met over eyes
which at that moment were fixed upon vacancy with a look of thought
and calmness very unusual to their ordinary restless and rapid
glances. His mouth, that great seat of character, was firmly and
obstinately shut; and though, at the first observation, its downward
curve and iron severity wore the appearance of unmitigated harshness,
disdain, and resolve, yet a more attentive deducer of signs from
features would not have been able to detect in its expression anything
resembling selfishness or sensuality, and in that absence would have
found sufficient to redeem the more repellent indications of mind
which it betrayed.
Presently the door was opened, and the landlord, making some apology
to both parties for having no other apartment unoccupied, introduced a
personage whose dress and air, as well as a kind of saddle-bag, which
he would not intrust to any other bearer than himself, appeared to
denote him as one rather addicted to mercantile than political
speculations. Certainly he did not seem much at home among the
patriotic reformers, who, having glared upon him for a single moment,
renewed, without remark, their several attitudes or occupations.
The stranger, after a brief pause, approached the solitary reformer
whom we last described; and making a salutation, half timorous and
half familiar, thus accosted him,--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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