The Ordeal of Richard Feverel: A History of a Father and SonMeredith, George
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The Ordeal of Richard Feverel: A History of a Father and Son
Meredith, George
Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Fathers and sons -- Fiction
The wonderful change in Richard, and the wisdom of her admirer, now
positively proved, were exciting matters to Lady Blandish. She was
rebuked for certain little rebellious fancies concerning him that
had come across her enslaved mind from time to time. For was he not
almost a prophet? It distressed the sentimental lady that a love
like Richard's could pass off in mere smoke, and words such as she
had heard him speak in Abbey-wood resolve to emptiness. Nay, it
humiliated her personally, and the baronet's shrewd prognostication
humiliated her. For how should he know, and dare to say, that love
was a thing of the dust that could be trodden out under the heel of
science? But he had said so, and he had proved himself right. She
heard with wonderment that Richard of his own accord had spoken to
his father of the folly he had been guilty of, and had begged his
pardon. The baronet told her this, adding that the youth had done it
in a cold unwavering way, without a movement of his features: had
evidently done it to throw off the burden of the duty he had
conceived. He had thought himself bound to acknowledge that he had
been the Foolish Young Fellow, wishing, possibly, to abjure the fact
by an act of penance. He had also given satisfaction to Benson, and
was become a renovated peaceful spirit, whose main object appeared
to be to get up his physical strength by exercise and no expenditure
of speech.
In her company he was composed and courteous; even when they were
alone together, he did not exhibit a trace of melancholy. Sober he
seemed, as one who has recovered from a drunkenness and has
determined to drink no more. The idea struck her that he might be
playing a part, but Tom Bakewell, in a private conversation they
had, informed her that he had received an order from his young
master, one day while boxing with him, not to mention the young
lady's name to him as long as he lived; and Tom could only suppose
that she had offended him. Theoretically wise Lady Blandish had
always thought the baronet; she was unprepared to find him thus
practically sagacious. She fell many degrees; she wanted something
to cling to; so she clung to the man who struck her low. Love, then,
was earthly; its depth could be probed by science! A man lived who
could measure it from end to end; foretell its term; handle the
young cherub as were he a shot owl! We who have flown into
cousinship with the empyrean, and disported among immortal hosts,
our base birth as a child of Time is made bare to us!--our wings are
cut! Oh, then, if science is this victorious enemy of love, let us
love science! was the logic of the lady's heart; and secretly
cherishing the assurance that she should confute him yet, and prove
him utterly wrong, she gave him the fruits of present success, as it
is a habit of women to do; involuntarily partly. The fires took hold
of her. She felt soft emotions such as a girl feels, and they
flattered her. It was like youth coming back. Pure women have a
second youth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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