Adventure stories; Fiction; Mystery fiction; Short stories
‘Dear me!’ said the Prince. ‘And you, madam, have an income of eight
thousand?’
‘Not more than five,’ returned the old lady; ‘but where on earth are you
conducting me?’
‘To an allowance of one thousand pounds a year,’ replied Florizel,
smiling. ‘For I must not suffer you to take your father for a rule. He
was poor, you are rich. He had many calls upon his poverty: there are
none upon your wealth. And indeed, madam, if you will let me touch this
matter with a needle, there is but one point in common to your two
positions: that each had a daughter more remarkable for liveliness than
duty.’
‘I have been entrapped into this house,’ said the old lady, getting to
her feet. ‘But it shall not avail. Not all the tobacconists in Europe . . .’
‘Ah, madam,’ interrupted Florizel, ‘before what is referred to as my
fall, you had not used such language! And since you so much object to
the simple industry by which I live, let me give you a friendly hint. If
you will not consent to support your daughter, I shall be constrained to
place that lady behind my counter, where I doubt not she would prove a
great attraction; and your son-in-law shall have a livery and run the
errands. With such young blood my business might be doubled, and I might
be bound in common gratitude to place the name of Luxmore beside that of
Godall.’
‘Your Highness,’ said the old lady, ‘I have been very rude, and you are
very cunning. I suppose the minx is on the premises. Produce her.’
‘Let us rather observe them unperceived,’ said the Prince; and so saying
he rose and quietly drew back the curtain.
Mrs. Desborough sat with her back to them on a chair; Somerset and Harry
were hanging on her words with extraordinary interest; Challoner,
alleging some affair, had long ago withdrawn from the detested
neighbourhood of the enchantress.
‘At that moment,’ Mrs. Desborough was saying, ‘Mr Gladstone detected the
features of his cowardly assailant. A cry rose to his lips: a cry of
mingled triumph . . .’
‘That is Mr. Somerset!’ interrupted the spirited old lady, in the highest
note of her register. ‘Mr. Somerset, what have you done with my
house-property?’
‘Madam,’ said the Prince, ‘let it be mine to give the explanation; and in
the meanwhile, welcome your daughter.’
‘Well, Clara, how do you do?’ said Mrs. Luxmore. ‘It appears I am to
give you an allowance. So much the better for you. As for Mr. Somerset,
I am very ready to have an explanation; for the whole affair, though
costly, was eminently humorous. And at any rate,’ she added, nodding to
Paul, ‘he is a young gentleman for whom I have a great affection, and his
pictures were the funniest I ever saw.’
‘I have ordered a collation,’ said the Prince. ‘Mr. Somerset, as these
are all your friends, I propose, if you please, that you should join them
at table. I will take the shop.’
Footnotes
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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