End of the world -- Fiction; Epidemics -- Fiction; Science fiction; Twenty-first century -- Fiction
He spoke with a broken voice, then bowed his head, and, hiding his face
in his hands, wept. I was still smarting from my own disappointment;
yet this scene oppressed me even to terror, nor could I interrupt his
access of passion. It subsided at length; and, throwing himself on the
couch, he remained silent and motionless, except that his changeful
features shewed a strong internal conflict. At last he rose, and said
in his usual tone of voice, “The time grows on us, Verney, I must away.
Let me not forget my chiefest errand here. Will you accompany me to
Windsor to-morrow? You will not be dishonoured by my society, and as
this is probably the last service, or disservice you can do me, will
you grant my request?”
He held out his hand with almost a bashful air. Swiftly I thought—Yes,
I will witness the last scene of the drama. Beside which, his mien
conquered me, and an affectionate sentiment towards him, again filled
my heart—I bade him command me. “Aye, that I will,” said he gaily,
“that’s my cue now; be with me to-morrow morning by seven; be secret
and faithful; and you shall be groom of the stole ere long.”
So saying, he hastened away, vaulted on his horse, and with a gesture
as if he gave me his hand to kiss, bade me another laughing adieu. Left
to myself, I strove with painful intensity to divine the motive of his
request and foresee the events of the coming day. The hours passed on
unperceived; my head ached with thought, the nerves seemed teeming with
the over full fraught—I clasped my burning brow, as if my fevered hand
could medicine its pain. I was punctual to the appointed hour on the
following day, and found Lord Raymond waiting for me. We got into his
carriage, and proceeded towards Windsor. I had tutored myself, and was
resolved by no outward sign to disclose my internal agitation.
“What a mistake Ryland made,” said Raymond, “when he thought to
overpower me the other night. He spoke well, very well; such an
harangue would have succeeded better addressed to me singly, than to
the fools and knaves assembled yonder. Had I been alone, I should have
listened to him with a wish to hear reason, but when he endeavoured to
vanquish me in my own territory, with my own weapons, he put me on my
mettle, and the event was such as all might have expected.”
I smiled incredulously, and replied: “I am of Ryland’s way of thinking,
and will, if you please, repeat all his arguments; we shall see how far
you will be induced by them, to change the royal for the patriotic
style.”
“The repetition would be useless,” said Raymond, “since I well remember
them, and have many others, self-suggested, which speak with
unanswerable persuasion.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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