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
Richard held out his clenched fist. "You have twice insulted me. You
have struck me: you have dared to call me a liar. I would have
apologized--I would have asked your pardon, to have got off that
fellow in prison. Yes! I would have degraded myself that another man
should not suffer for my deed"----
"Quite proper!" interposed the farmer.
"And you take this opportunity of insulting me afresh. You're a
coward, sir! nobody but a coward would have insulted me in his own
house."
"Sit ye down, sit ye down, young master," said the farmer,
indicating the chair and cooling the outburst with his hand. "Sit
ye down. Don't ye be hasty. If ye hadn't been hasty t'other day, we
sh'd a been friends yet. Sit ye down, sir. I sh'd be sorry to reckon
you out a liar, Mr. Feverel, or anybody o' your name. I respects yer
father though we're opp'site politics. I'm willin' to think well o'
you. What I say is, that as you say an't the trewth. Mind! I don't
like you none the worse for't. But it an't what is. That's all! You
knows it as well's I!"
Richard, disdaining to show signs of being pacified, angrily
reseated himself. The farmer spoke sense, and the boy, after his
late interview with Austin, had become capable of perceiving vaguely
that a towering passion is hardly the justification for a wrong
course of conduct.
"Come," continued the farmer, not unkindly, "what else have you to
say?"
Here was the same bitter cup he had already once drained brimming at
Richard's lips again! Alas, poor human nature! that empties to the
dregs a dozen of these evil drinks, to evade the single one which
Destiny, less cruel, had insisted upon.
The boy blinked and tossed it off.
"I came to say that I regretted the revenge I had taken on you for
your striking me."
Farmer Blaize nodded.
"And now ye've done, young gentleman?"
Still another cupful!
"I should be very much obliged," Richard formally began, but his
stomach was turned; he could but sip and sip, and gather a distaste
which threatened to make the penitential act impossible. "Very much
obliged," he repeated: "much obliged, if you would be so kind," and
it struck him that had he spoken this at first he would have given
it a wording more persuasive with the farmer and more worthy of his
own pride: more honest, in fact: for a sense of the dishonesty of
what he was saying caused him to cringe and simulate humility to
deceive the farmer, and the more he said the less he felt his words,
and, feeling them less, he inflated them more. "So kind," he
stammered, "so kind" (fancy a Feverel asking this big brute to be so
kind!) "as to do me the favour" (_me_ the favour!) "to exert
yourself" (it's all to please Austin) "to endeavour to--hem! to"
(there's no saying it!)----
The cup was full as ever. Richard dashed at it again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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