The Mystery of M. FelixFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
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The Mystery of M. Felix
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 19th century
To escape! Had it come to that? Was it to be ever her fate to fly from
unmerited shame, to be oppressed and hunted down? But it was not of
herself alone she thought; her unborn babe appealed to her. A life of
duty lay before her. It was merciful that this view of the position in
which she stood came to her aid; otherwise her great despair might
have driven her to the last desperate expedient of those wretched
mortals to whom life has become a burden too hard to be longer
endured.
"What is your proposition," she asked, faintly.
"My brother had a regard for you," said Leonard, "and when the time
had arrived when, supposing that he had lived, he would have been
compelled to separate himself from you, he would most likely have made
some provision for you. I stand in his place, and I do loving honor to
his memory by acting as he would have done. You shall not face the
world in poverty, and besides, you shall not have the power to say
that you have been first betrayed and then cast forth penniless. I
will provide for you, and will undertake to pay, through a lawyer whom
I shall appoint, a sum of two pounds a week so long as you lead a
respectable life and say nothing to my dear brother's hurt. You may
live where you like, but I would advise you to choose some other
country than England. There the story of your shame would cling to
you, would follow you everywhere. Away from England no one would know,
and life would be easier for you. Do you accept?"
"Leave me to myself," said Emilia. "I will send for you presently."
"I will wait below," said Leonard; "but do not be long in deciding, or
I may change my mind."
Alone with her grief and her shame, Emilia, by a supreme effort of
will, forced herself to calmness. The solemn sense of responsibility
imbued her soul with strength. She was no longer a girl, dependent
upon others for counsel, for guidance, for love. Not a friend in the
world had she, but a helpless being would soon be lying at her breast
who would claim from her all that it was in the power of a loving
woman to give. A new life lay before her. How would she commence it?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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