“‘Sedley.’
“He writ it down.
“‘An Englishman too, I presume.’
“‘He shall go to heaven, notwithstanding;’ said the boy who had been our
guide.
“It began to be too much for me. I squeezed his hand that was clasped in
mine, his wife’s I pressed to my lips, and burst from the place, to give
vent to the feelings that laboured within me.
“‘Oh, Mountford!’ said I, when he had overtaken me at the door.
“‘It is time,’ replied he, ‘that we should think of our appointment;
young Respino and his friends are waiting us.’
“‘Damn him, damn him!’ said I. ‘Let us leave Milan instantly; but soft—I
will be calm; Mountford, your pencil.’ I wrote on a slip of paper,
“‘To Signor RESPINO.
“‘When you receive this, I am at a distance from Milan. Accept of my
thanks for the civilities I have received from you and your family.
As to the friendship with which you were pleased to honour me, the
prison, which I have just left, has exhibited a scene to cancel it
for ever. You may possibly be merry with your companions at my
weakness, as I suppose you will term it. I give you leave for
derision. You may affect a triumph, I shall feel it.
“EDWARD SEDLEY.”
“‘You may send this if you will,’ said Mountford, coolly, ‘but still
Respino is a _man of honour_; the world will continue to call him so.’
“‘It is probable,’ I answered, ‘they may; I envy not the appellation. If
this is the world’s honour, if these men are the guides of its manners—’
“‘Tut!’ said Mountford, ‘do you eat macaroni—’”
* * * * *
[At this place had the greatest depredations of the curate begun. There
were so very few connected passages of the subsequent chapters remaining,
that even the partiality of an editor could not offer them to the public.
I discovered, from some scattered sentences, that they were of much the
same tenor with the preceding; recitals of little adventures, in which
the dispositions of a man, sensible to judge, and still more warm to
feel, had room to unfold themselves. Some instruction, and some example,
I make no doubt they contained; but it is likely that many of those, whom
chance has led to a perusal of what I have already presented, may have
read it with little pleasure, and will feel no disappointment from the
want of those parts which I have been unable to procure. To such as may
have expected the intricacies of a novel, a few incidents in a life
undistinguished, except by some features of the heart, cannot have
afforded much entertainment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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