The Flower of the Flock, Volume 3 (of 3)Egan, Pierce
General
The Flower of the Flock, Volume 3 (of 3)
Egan, Pierce
Fiction
It is, unhappily, the nature of jealousy to magnify small things into
great ones, and to build upon the flimsiest supposition a series of
incidents inflaming to the brain of the jaundiced thinker, but which,
nevertheless, have no foundation in fact. Unfortunately, the jealous too
often act upon these probabilities as if they had really happened, and
in the paroxysms of rage and agony created by unworthy visions, reason
takes to flight, and the worst extravagances are the result.
This was the case with Colonel Mires. He had assumed interviews between
Flora and young Vivian which had never taken place. His prurient mind,
not improved by his residence in India, had wrought out love passages
which had not occurred, and he groaned, gnashed his teeth, and even wept
with agony.
That he passionately loved Flora, even unto frenzy, was beyond a doubt,
and that it worked him up to a pitch of insanity is equally true, as his
recent conduct proved. In India, in command of a native regiment, his
power was great--he was, in a small sphere, a monarch; in England,
he felt curbed, trammelled, shackled, and if he had not had an Indian
servant, in close attendance, to expend that love and inordinate desire
for supreme command upon, he would have been constantly committing some
outrageous outbreak of temper, which, of necessity, would have often
precipitated him into trouble.
He chafed at the restraint the state of society in England placed upon
him; and when it was impossible to conceal from himself that he was the
veriest slave to Flora’s beauty, he was infuriate to find that his wish,
no less than his will, went for nothing in effecting a result in which
the happiness or misery of his whole future life was involved.
The confession of love for Vivian, which Flora had made to her father,
and the expressed determination of old Wilton to give her hand to the
Honorable Lester Vane, scattered any floating delusive hopes he might
have entertained. He saw that she could only become his by some bold act
of villany, perpetrated regardless of all consequences attendant upon
its frustration.
He formed a plan with subtlety, and made his arrangements with skill.
He went over the whole distance between Harleydale and Southampton
carefully, making a chart of the bye-ways. He provided relays of horses
at unfrequented spots; and at every house, where it would be necessary
to rest for the night or stay for refreshment, he palmed off on the host
a story that his task was the distressing one of conveying a young lady,
afflicted with raving insanity, to an asylum for lunatics. Every minute
detail of the plan was carefully considered before adoption, and every
possible contingency foreseen and provided against.
There was one exception!
It did not strike Colonel Mires that he was distrusted, suspected of
evil machinations, and was, therefore, closely watched.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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