The lady's mile : $b a novelBraddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
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The lady's mile : $b a novel
Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
English fiction -- 19th century
Nothing could have been more delightful to the dowager than the
Captain's manner of opening the campaign on the morning after his
arrival. They had breakfasted early this time, for Hector insisted that
he was well enough to get up with the birds if necessary, and that
so far as any claim to feminine compassion or to sick-leave went, he
was the veriest impostor in existence. It was after the little party
had dawdled considerably over the breakfast-table, and when Cecil had
departed to hold solemn council with the cook, that Hector addressed
his relative:
"Now, my dear auntie," he said, "it's essentially necessary that
you and I should understand each other. In the first place, I adore
Fortinbras. I think it the most delightful place in the universe; and
if the possessor of that delicious old castle would only be good enough
to conceive an aversion for it, or find himself hopelessly insolvent,
or something of that kind, I'd buy it of him to-morrow--Consols
have risen an eighth since last Tuesday, and it's a good time for
selling out--and restore it. Queen Elizabeth's drawing-room would
make an admirable billiard-room, if it only had those necessary
trifles--a floor and a ceiling. I'd make my hunting-stables out of the
banqueting-hall--imagine a loose box with a wall four feet thick!--and
I'd sleep in the topmost chamber of the great Norman tower, with a
flag-staff swaying close above my head, and a general sensation of
inhabiting a balloon. But all this is beside the question, auntie.
What I want to say is that I have fallen desperately in love with
Fortinbras, and as I am likely to stay here till you become unutterably
weary of my society, I must insist upon your accepting this cheque
which I wrote this morning--for you know of old what an expensive
fellow I am, and I should feel perfectly miserable if I felt myself
sponging on you without the least chance of returning your hospitality."
The Captain crumpled the folded cheque into his aunt's hand. The widow
began some vague protest, but her nephew suffocated her scruples by a
sonorous kiss; and whatever objection she urged against the receipt of
his money were lost in the luxuriance of his beard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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