The Flower of the Flock, Volume 3 (of 3)Egan, Pierce
General
The Flower of the Flock, Volume 3 (of 3)
Egan, Pierce
Fiction
He was the mortgagor of an estate to Nathan Gomer, which had been
already twice mortgaged to more than its value. The title-deeds he
handed over were fresh ones he had had copied from the original draft,
and were therefore fraudulent. The sight of Nathan Gomer, with an
officer at his elbow, revealed to him the discovery that had been made;
and, in his intense alarm, he leaped out of the window, in the hope of
escape, but only to succeed in making himself a maimed cripple for life.
No one would desire to “break a butterfly on a wheel;” and by this event
Hugh Riversdale considered his wife, Helen, avenged.
Mark introduced Nathan Gomer to Hugh, and they together left Wilton’s
house for the residence of the deceased Grahame.
Wilton listened to the account of Lester Vane’s iniquity, and to his
terrible accident, with a chastened spirit-He called Flora to him, and
pressed her to his heart. “I have wronged you, Flo’, my darling,” he
said with emotion. “I have been bitterly punished. Well, well; we will
see if we cannot reward you with a young handsome fellow you would like
better; well, well, we shall see how he behaves himself.”
“Dear, dear father,” murmured Flora, her eyes glistening with happiness
at his words.
Old Wilton gazed fondly on her face, upturned to his; a gleam of pride
shot forth from his eyes as he perused her exquisite features.
“Upon my word,” he said, with a chuckle, “that young fellow, Vivian, is
a cunning dog, with excellent taste. He might journey many a weary
mile ere he found a prettier face than yours, Flo’. Except,” he added,
reflectively, “that he were to encounter my little pet nurse on his way.
Hem! she had a pretty face that kind young friend of yours, eh, Flo’?”
“A dear, dear face!” responded Flora, warmly. She turned to Mark with an
expressive twinkle in her eyes, and said, “you think so too, don’t you,
Mark?”
“He!” ejaculated his father, with a kind of depreciatory grunt--“he’s
but a poor judge.”
“Judge enough, at least,” cried Mark, rather hotly, “to think the face
of your little pet nurse, as you call her, the brightest, sweetest,
pleasantest, the most loveable under heaven.”
He looked fiercely and defiantly both at his sister and father, as
though to challenge them to disprove him if they could. Flora smiled
roguishly at him; and Wilton with evident satisfaction, for he little
dreamed that the subject of his son’s encomium was that very “low-born
beggar” he had so sternly objected to receive into his family.
“Why, Mark,” he exclaimed, with a chuckle, “you have more discrimination
and taste than I gave you credit for. In this matter you judge justly,
and with a very clear perception of the truth. I say, that when she
comes before you, her face greets you like a burst of sunshine, it is
radiant with a galaxy of glories, for it is cheerful, amiable, placid,
gentle, good, generous, patient, unselfish--everything, in fact, that is
estimable, and can make the female face divine.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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