The House on the Moor, v. 1/3Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The House on the Moor, v. 1/3
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
A flood of painful feelings rose during this speech over the Colonel's
face, of which kindness misconstrued and personal dignity wounded were
the least and lightest. He looked with an amazed, grieved,
uncomprehending wonder in the face of his brother-in-law, and was silent
for a few minutes, while the first pangs of indignant pain were
subsiding, though he involuntarily rose to his feet, an action which Mr.
Scarsdale followed. Perhaps this last rudeness might have roused the
warlike blood of the old soldier, had not his eye at the moment lighted
upon that portrait in the shadow of the curtain. That touch of old love
and sorrow moved him in the midst of his resentment almost to tears. He
had to pause before he could speak as calmly as he wished to speak. "I
have never thought it my duty," said Colonel Sutherland, "to interfere
in any man's house: I will not begin in yours--nor would I remain in it
even for a night, but for recollections which neither you nor I can
efface by any measure of hard words. But, for heaven's sake, Robert
Scarsdale, why is all this?--why do you meet me after this extraordinary
fashion?--why do you shut yourself out from human sympathy?--why refuse
yourself the comfort of your own children? As for myself, I am neither
an enemy nor a stranger. Old ties and kindness have never died out of my
recollection through all the sorrows and labours of my life, which have
not been few. Why have they passed out of yours? We are relations--not
antagonists."
"We _were_ relatives," said Mr. Scarsdale, stiffly.
"_Were!_ And my dear sister--your good wife--do you count her, then,
only among the things that _were_?"
"I beg your pardon: a man is generally the best judge of the goodness of
his wife; but there is no question at present of the virtues of the late
Mrs. Scarsdale," said the recluse. "I can see no benefit to result from
discussing past circumstances. You are welcome to my house, such as it
is; but, knowing my position as you do, I think myself quite justified
in requesting your silence on this matter. It was not my will,
certainly, which made you aware of it at first."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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