The Squire's DaughterHocking, Silas K. (Silas Kitto)
General
The Squire's Daughter
Hocking, Silas K. (Silas Kitto)
Landlord and tenant -- Fiction; Love stories; Social classes -- England -- Fiction
"He had carried her in his arms from Treliskey Plantation to the
junction of the high road."
"Without assistance?"
"Without assistance. What else could he do? There was not a soul near
the spot. Since you closed the road through the plantation, it is never
used now, except by the few people to whom you have granted the right of
way."
"So young Penlogan was in the plantation, was he?"
"I really don't know. He may have been on the common."
Sir John frowned. "Do you know," he said, after a pause, "that I dislike
that young man exceedingly."
"Indeed?"
"He is altogether above his station. I believe he is clever, mind you,
and all that, but what does a working-man's son want to bother himself
with mechanics and chemistry for?"
"Why not?" the doctor asked, with slightly raised eyebrows.
"Why? Because this higher education, as it is called, is bringing the
country to the dogs. Get an educated proletariat, and the reign of the
nobility and gentry is at an end. You see the thin end of the wedge
already. Your Board-school boys and girls are all cursed with notions;
they are too big for their jackets, too high for their station; they
have no respect for squire or parson, and they are too high and mighty
to do honest work."
"I cannot say that has been my experience," the doctor said quietly; and
he rose from his chair and began to pull on his gloves.
"You are not going?" Sir John questioned anxiously.
"For an hour or two. I should like, with your permission, to telegraph
to Dr. Roscommon. You know he is regarded now as the most famous surgeon
in the county."
"But surely, doctor----" Sir John began, with a look of consternation in
his eyes.
"I should like to have his opinion," the doctor said quietly.
"Of course--of course! Get the best advice you can. No expense must be
spared. My child must be saved at all costs."
"Rest assured we shall do our best," the doctor answered, and quietly
left the room.
For the best part of another hour Sir John paced restlessly up and down
the room, then he dropped into an easy-chair and fell fast asleep.
He was aroused at length by a timid knock at the door.
"Come in!" he answered sleepily, fancying for a moment that he was in
bed, and that his servant had brought him his shaving-water.
The next moment he was on his feet, with an agitated look in his eyes.
A servant entered, followed by Ralph Penlogan, who looked as if he had
not slept for the night.
Instead of waiting to know if Sir John would see him, Ralph had stalked
into the room on the servant's heels. He was too anxious to stand on
ceremony, too eager to unburden his mind. He had never had a moment's
peace since his meeting with Dorothy Hamblyn the previous afternoon. He
felt like a criminal, and would have given all he possessed if he could
have lived over the previous afternoon again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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