The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain — John Shaqi
The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy ChainYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Trials (Murder) -- Fiction
'No honest man of principle and education can be utterly useless; but
when, three days ago, I recollected that it was my sixtieth birthday, I
looked back, and saw nothing but desultory broken efforts, and restless
changes. Your father told me, when I thought him unaware of the
meaning of his words, that if I had missed many joys, I had missed many
sorrows; but I had taken the way to make my one sorrow a greater burden
than his many.'
'But you do not grieve for my mother still?' said Ethel, anxiously.
'Even his grief is a grave joy to him now; and one is always told that
such things, as it was with you, are but a very small part of a man's
life.'
'I am not one of the five hundred men, whom any one of five hundred
women might have equally pleased,' said Dr. Spencer; 'but it is so far
true, that the positive pain and envy wore out, and would not have
interfered with my after life, but for my own folly. No, Ethel; it was
not the loss of her that embittered and threw away my existence; it was
my own rash vow, and its headstrong fulfilment, which has left me no
right to your father's peaceful spirit.'
'How little we guessed!' said Ethel. 'So cheerful and ready as you
always are.'
'I never trouble others, he said abruptly. 'Neither man nor woman ever
heard a word of all this; and you would not have heard it now, but for
that sea; and you have got your mother's voice, and some of her ways,
since you have grown older and more sedate.'
'Oh, I am so glad!' said Ethel, who had been led to view her likeness
to her father as natural, that to her mother as acquired.
Those were the last words of the conversation; but Ethel, leaning from
her window to listen to the plash of the waves, suspected that the
slowly moving meteor she beheld, denoted that a cigar was soothing the
emotions excited by their dialogue. She mused long over that
revelation of the motives of the life that had always been noble and
generous in the midst of much that was eccentric and wayward, and
constantly the beat of the waves repeated to her the half-comprehended
words, 'Never threaten Providence.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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