Paul Clifford — Volume 07

ustea - Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe
Tout savoir sur nos offres

108 pages

English

Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe
Tout savoir sur nos offres

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

The Project Gutenberg EBook Paul Clifford, by Lytton, Volume 7. #161 in our series by Edward Bulwer-LyttonCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country beforedownloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do notchange or edit the header without written permission.Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom ofthis file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. Youcan also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts****EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers*****Title: Paul Clifford, Volume 7.Author: Edward Bulwer-LyttonRelease Date: March 2005 [EBook #7734] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was firstposted on May 13, 2003]Edition: 10Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL CLIFFORD, BY LYTTON, V7 ***This eBook was produced by Bryan Sherman and David Widger, widger@cecomet.netPAUL CLIFFORD, Volume 7.By Edward Bulwer-LyttonCHAPTER XXXIV. O Fortuna, viris invida fortibus Quam ...

Informations

Publié par	ustea
Publié le	08 décembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	23
Langue	English

Extrait

Author: Edward Bulwer-LyttonRelease Date: March 2005 [EBook #7734] [Yes,we are more than one year ahead of schedule][This file was first posted on May 13, 2003]Edition: 10Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERGEBOOK PAUL CLIFFORD, BY LYTTON, V7 ***This eBook was produced by Bryan Sherman andDavid Widger, widger@cecomet.netPAUL CLIFFORD, Volume 7.By Edward Bulwer-Lytton

CHAPTER XXXIV. O Fortuna, viris invida fortibus Quam non aqua bonis praemia dividis. SENECA. . . . . . . . . . . . . And as a hare, whom hounds and hornspursue, Pants to the place from whence at firsthe flew. . . . . . . . . . . . . Here, to the houseless child of want, My door is open still. GOLDSMITH.Slowly for Lucy waned the weeks of a winter whichto her was the most dreary portion of life she hadever passed. It became the time for the judge toattend one of those periodical visitations so fraughtwith dread and dismay to the miserable inmates ofthe dark abodes which the complex laws of thiscountry so bounteously supply,—those times of,great hilarity and eating to the legal gentry— "Who feed on crimes and fatten ondistress, And wring vile mirth from suffering's lastexcess."Ah! excellent order of the world, which it is sowicked to disturb! How miraculously beautiful mustbe that system which makes wine out of the

scorching tears of guilt; and from the suffocatingsuspense, the agonized fear, the compelled andself-mocking bravery, the awful sentence, thedespairing death-pang of one man, furnishes thesmirking expectation of fees, the jovial meeting,and the mercenary holiday to another! "Of Law,nothing less can be said than that her seat is thebosom of God."— [Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity.]—To be sure not; Richard Hooker, you areperfectly right. The divinity of a sessions and theinspiration of the Old Bailey are undeniable!The care of Sir William Brandon had effectuallykept from Lucy's ear the knowledge of her lover'signominious situation. Indeed, in her delicate healtheven the hard eye of Brandon and the thoughtlessglance of Mauleverer perceived the danger of sucha discovery. The earl, now waiting the main attackon Lucy till the curtain had forever dropped onClifford, proceeded with great caution and delicacyin his suit to his purposed bride. He waited with themore patience inasmuch as he had drawn inadvance on his friend Sir William for some portionof the heiress's fortune; and he readily allowed thathe could not in the mean while have a betteradvocate than he found in Brandon. So persuasive,indeed, and so subtle was the eloquence of thisable sophist, that often in his artful conversationswith his niece he left even on the unvitiated andstrong though simple mind of Lucy an uneasy andrestless impression, which time might have ripenedinto an inclination towards the worldly advantagesof the marriage at her command. Brandon was nobungling mediator or violent persecutor. He

seemed to acquiesce in her rejection ofMauleverer. He scarcely recurred to the event. Herarely praised the earl himself, save for the obviousqualities of liveliness and good- nature. But hespoke, with all the vivid colours he could infuse atwill into his words, of the pleasures and the dutiesof rank and wealth. Well could he appeal alike to allthe prejudices and all the foibles of the humanbreast, and govern virtue through its weaknesses.Lucy had been brought up, like the daughters ofmost country gentlemen of ancient family, in anundue and idle consciousness of superior birth;and she was far from inaccessible to the warmthand even feeling (for here Brandon was sincere)with which her uncle spoke of the duty of raising agallant name sunk into disrepute, and sacrificingour own inclination for the redecorating themouldered splendour of those who have gonebefore us. If the confusion of idea occasioned by avague pomposity of phrase, or the infantinculcation of a sentiment that is mistaken for a,virtue, so often makes fools of the wise on thesubject of ancestry; if it clouded even the sarcasticand keen sense of Brandon himself, we mayforgive its influence over a girl so little versed in thearts of sound reasoning as poor Lucy, who, it maybe said, had never learned to think until she hadlearned to love. However, the impression made byBrandon, in his happiest moments of persuasion,was as yet only transient; it vanished before thefirst thought of Clifford, and never suggested to hereven a doubt as to the suit of Mauleverer.When the day arrived for Sir William Brandon to

set out on the circuit, he called Barlow, andenjoined on that acute and intelligent servant thestrictest caution with respect to Lucy. He bade himdeny her to every one, of whatever rank, andcarefully to look into every newspaper that wasbrought to her, as well as to withhold every letter,save such as were addressed to her in the judge'sown handwriting. Lucy's maid Brandon had alreadywon over to silence; and the uncle now pleasedhimself with thinking that he had put an effectualguard to every chance of discovery. The identity ofLovett with Clifford had not yet even beenrumoured; and Mauleverer had rightly judged ofClifford, when he believed the prisoner wouldhimself take every precaution against the detectionof that fact. Clifford answered the earl's note, andpromised, in a letter couched in so affecting yet somanly a tone of gratitude that even Brandon wastouched when he read it. And since hisconfinement and partial recovery of health, theprisoner had kept himself closely secluded, andrefused all visitors. Encouraged by this reflection,and the belief in the safety of his precautions,Brandon took leave of Lucy. "Farewell!" said he, ashe embraced her affectionately. "Be sure that youwrite to me, and forgive me if I do not answer youpunctually. Take care of yourself, my sweet niece,and let me see a fresher colour on that soft cheekwhen I return!""Take care of yourself rather, my dear, dearuncle," said Lucy, clinging to him and weeping, asof late her weakened nerves caused her to do atthe least agitation. "Why may I not go with you?

You have seemed to me paler than usual the lastthree or four days, and you complained yesterday.Do let me go with you. I will be no trouble, none atall; but I am sure you require a nurse."You want to frighten me, my pretty Lucy," said"Brandon, shaking his head with a smile. "I am well,very well. I felt a strange rush of blood towards thehead yesterday, it is true; but I feel to-day strongerand lighter than I have done for years. Once more,God bless you, my child!"And Brandon tore himself away, and commencedhis journey.The wandering and dramatic course of our storynow conducts us to an obscure lane in themetropolis, leading to the Thames, and makes usspectators of an affecting farewell between twopersons, whom the injustice of fate and thepersecutions of men were about perhaps forever todivide."Adieu, my friend!" said Augustus Tomlinson, as hestood looking full on that segment of the face ofEdward Pepper which was left unconcealed by ahuge hat and a red belcher handkerchief.Tomlinson himself was attired in the full costume ofa dignified clergyman. "Adieu, my friend, since youwill remain in England,—adieu! I am, I exult to say,no less sincere a patriot than you. Heaven be mywitness, how long I looked repugnantly on poorLovett's proposal to quit my beloved country. Butall hope of life here is now over; and really, during

the last ten days I have been so hunted fromcorner to corner, so plagued with polite invitations,similar to those given by a farmer's wife to herducks, 'Dilly, dilly, dilly, come and be killed!' that mypatriotism has been prodigiously cooled, and I nolonger recoil from thoughts of self- banishment.'The earth,' my dear Ned, as a Greek sage hasvery well observed,—'the earth is the sameeverywhere!' and if I am asked for my home, I canpoint, like Anaxagoras, to heaven!""'Pon my soul, you affect me!" said Ned, speakingthick, either from grief or the pressure of thebelcher handkerchief on his mouth; "it is quitebeautiful to hear you talk!""Bear up, my dear friend," continued Tomlinson;"bear up against your present afflictions. What, toa man who fortifies himself by reason and byreflection on the shortness of life, are the littlecalamities of the body? What is imprisonment orpersecution or cold or hunger? By the by, you didnot forget to put the sandwiches into my coat-pocket!""Hush!" whispered Ned, and he moved oninvoluntarily; "I see a man at the other end of thestreet.""Let us quicken our pace," said Tomlinson; and thepair proceeded towards the river."And now," began Ned, who thought he might aswell say something about himself; for hithertoAugustus, in the ardour of his friendship, had been

Augustus, in the ardour of his friendship, had beenonly discussing his own plans,—"and now,—that isto say, when I leave you,—I shall hasten to dive forshelter, until the storm blows over. I don't muchlike living in a cellar and wearing a smock frock; butthose concealments have something interesting inthem, after all! The safest and snuggest place Iknow of is the Pays Bas, about Thames Court; so Ithink of hiring an apartment underground, andtaking my meals at poor Lovett's old quarters, theMug,—the police will never dream of looking inthese vulgar haunts for a man of my fashion.""You cannot then tear yourself from England?" saidTomlinson."No, hang it! the fellows are so cursed unmanly onthe other side of the water. I hate their wine andtheir parley woo. Besides, there is no fun there."Tomlinson, who was absorbed in his own thoughts,made no comment on his friend's excellentreasons against travel; and the pair nowapproached the brink of the river. A boat was inwaiting to receive and conduct to the vessel inwhich he had taken his place for Calais theillustrious emigrant. But as Tomlinson's eye fellsuddenly on the rude boatmen and the little boatwhich were to bear him away from his native land;as he glanced, too, across the blue waters, which abrisk wind wildly agitated, and thought how muchrougher it would be at sea, where "his soul"invariably "sickened at the heaving wave,"—awhole tide of deep and sorrowful emotions rushedupon him.

He turned away. The spot on which he stood was apiece of ground to be let (as a board proclaimed)upon a building lease; below, descended the stepswhich were to conduct him to the boat; around, thedesolate space allowed him to see in far and broadextent the spires and domes and chimneys of thegreat city whose inhabitants he might neverplunder more. As he looked and looked, the tearsstarted to his eyes, and with a gust of enthusiasm,little consonant with his temperate andphilosophical character, he lifted his right handfrom his black breeches-pocket, and burst into thefollowing farewell to the metropolis of his nativeshores:—"Farewell, my beloved London, farewell! Whereshall I ever find a city like you? Never, till now, did Ifeel how inexpressibly dear you were to me. Youhave been my father and my brother and mymistress and my tailor and my shoemaker and myhatter and my cook and my wine-merchant! Youand I never misunderstood each other. I did notgrumble when I saw what fine houses and goodstrong boxes you gave to other men. No! I rejoicedat their prosperity. I delighted to see a rich man,—my only disappointment was in stumbling on a poorone. You gave riches to my neighbours; but, Ogenerous London, you gave those neighbours tome! Magnificent streets, all Christian virtues abidewithin you! Charity is as common as smoke!Where, in what corner of the habitable world, shallI find human beings with so many superfluities?Where shall I so easily decoy, from benevolentcredulity, those superfluities to myself? Heaven