The Ordeal of Richard Feverel: A History of a Father and SonMeredith, George
General
The Ordeal of Richard Feverel: A History of a Father and Son
Meredith, George
Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Fathers and sons -- Fiction
"Fear nothing!" He winds her about with his arm. "Come! He will love
us both, and love you the more for being faithful to your father's
creed. You don't know him, Lucy. He seems harsh and stern--he is
full of kindness and love. He isn't at all a bigot. And besides,
when he hears what the nuns have done for you, won't he thank them,
as I do? And--oh! I must speak to him soon, and you must be prepared
to see him soon, for I cannot bear your remaining at Belthorpe, like
a jewel in a sty. Mind! I'm not saying a word against your uncle. I
declare I love everybody and everything that sees you and touches
you. Stay! it _is_ a wonder how you could have grown there. But you
were not born there, and your father had good blood. Desborough!--there
was a Colonel Desborough--never mind! Come!"
She dreads to. She begs not to. She is drawn away.
The woods are silent, and then--
"What think you of that for a pretty pastoral?" says a very
different voice.
Adrian reclined against a pine overlooking the fern-covert. Lady
Blandish was recumbent upon the brown pine-droppings, gazing through
a vista of the lower greenwood which opened out upon the
moon-lighted valley, her hands clasped round one knee, her features
almost stern in their set hard expression.
They had heard, by involuntarily overhearing about as much as may be
heard in such positions, a luminous word or two.
The lady did not answer. A movement among the ferns attracted
Adrian, and he stepped down the decline across the pine-roots to
behold heavy Benson below, shaking fern-seed and spidery substances
off his crumpled skin.
"Is that you, Mr. Hadrian?" called Benson, starting, as he puffed,
and exercised his handkerchief.
"Is it _you_, Benson, who have had the audacity to spy upon these
Mysteries?" Adrian called back, and coming close to him, added, "You
look as if you had just been well thrashed."
"Isn't it dreadful, sir?" snuffled Benson. "And his father in
ignorance, Mr. Hadrian!"
"He shall know, Benson! He shall know how you have endangered your
valuable skin in his service. If Mr. Richard had found you there
just now I wouldn't answer for the consequences."
"Ha!" Benson spitefully retorted. "This won't go on, Mr. Hadrian. It
shan't, sir. It will be put a stop to to-morrow, sir. I call it
corruption of a young gentleman like him, and harlotry, sir, I call
it. I'd have every jade flogged that made a young innocent gentleman
go on like that, sir."
"Then why didn't you stop it yourself, Benson? Ah, I see! you
waited--what? This is not the first time you have been attendant on
Apollo and Miss Dryope? You have written to headquarters?"
"I did my duty, Mr. Hadrian."
The wise youth returned to Lady Blandish, and informed her of
Benson's zeal. The lady's eyes flashed. "I hope Richard will treat
him as he deserves," she said.
"Shall we home?" Adrian inquired.
"Do me a favour," the lady replied. "Get my carriage sent round to
meet me at the park-gates."
"Won't you?"--
"I want to be alone."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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