Dora Thorne , livre ebook

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191 pages

English

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pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. The consequences of folly seldom end with its originator, said Lord Earle to his son. Rely upon it, Ronald, if you were to take this most foolish and unadvisable step, you would bring misery upon yourself and every one connected with you. Listen to reason.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	23 octobre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819913177
Langue	English

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Chapter I
"The consequences of folly seldom end with itsoriginator," said Lord Earle to his son. "Rely upon it, Ronald, ifyou were to take this most foolish and unadvisable step, you wouldbring misery upon yourself and every one connected with you. Listento reason."
"There is no reason in prejudice," replied the youngman haughtily. "You can not bring forward one valid reason againstmy marriage."
Despite his annoyance, a smile broke over LordEarle's grave face.
"I can bring a thousand reasons, if necessary," hereplied. "I grant everything you say. Dora Thorne is very pretty;but remember, she is quite a rustic and unformed beauty – and Ialmost doubt whether she can read or spell properly. She is modestand good, I grant, and I never heard one syllable against her.Ronald, let me appeal to your better judgment – are a moderateamount of rustic prettiness and shy modesty sufficientqualifications for your wife, who will have to take your mother'splace?"
"They are quite sufficient to satisfy me," repliedthe young man.
"You have others to consider," said Lord Earle,quickly.
"I love her," interrupted his son; and again hisfather smiled.
"We know what it means," he said, "when boys ofnineteen talk about love. Believe me, Ronald, if I were to consentto your request, you would be the first in after years to reproachme for weak compliance with your youthful folly."
"You would not call it folly," retorted Ronald, hisface flushing hotly, "if Dora were an heiress, or the daughter ofsome – "
"Spare me a long discourse," again interrupted LordEarle. "You are quite right; if the young girl in question belongedto your own station, or even if she were near it, that would bequite a different matter. I am not annoyed that you have, as youthink, fallen in love, or that you wish to marry, although you areyoung. I am annoyed that you should dream of wishing to marry asimple rustic, the daughter of my lodge keeper. It is so supremelyridiculous that I can hardly treat the matter seriously."
"It is serious enough for me," returned his son witha long, deep sigh. "If I do not marry Dora Thorne, I shall nevermarry at all."
"Better that than a mesalliance," said Lord Earle,shortly.
"She is good," cried Ronald – "good and fair, modestand graceful. Her heart is pure as her face is fair. Whatmesalliance can there be, father? I never have believed and nevershall believe in the cruel laws of caste. In what is one man betterthan or superior to another save that he is more intelligent ormore virtuous?"
"I shall never interfere in your politics, Ronald,"said Lord Earle, laughing quietly. "Before you are twenty-one youwill have gone through many stages of that fever. Youth is almostinvariably liberal, age conservative. Adopt what line of politicsyou will, but do not bring theory into practice in thisinstance."
"I should consider myself a hero," continued theyoung man, "if I could be the first to break through the trammelsof custom and the absurd laws of caste."
"You would not be the first," said Lord Earle,quietly. "Many before you have made unequal marriages; many will doso after you, but in every case I believe regret and disappointmentfollowed."
"They would not in my case," said Ronald, eagerly;"and with Dora Thorne by my side, I could so anything; without her,I can do nothing."
Lord Earle looked grieved at the pertinacity of hisson.
"Most fathers would refuse to hear all thisnonsense, Ronald," he said, gently. "I listen, and try to convinceyou by reasonable arguments that the step you seem bent upon takingis one that will entail nothing but misery. I have said no angryword to you, nor shall I do so. I tell you simply it can not be.Dora Thorne, my lodge keeper's daughter, is no fitting wife for myson, the heir of Earlescourt. Come with me, Ronald; I will show youfurther what I mean."
They went together, the father and son, so like inface yet so dissimilar in mind. They had been walking up and downthe broad terrace, one of the chief beauties of Earlescourt. Thepark and pleasure grounds, with flushed summer beauty, lay smilingaround them. The song of hundreds of birds trilled through thesweet summer air, the water of many fountains rippled musically,rare flowers charmed the eye and sent forth sweet perfume; butneither song of birds nor fragrance of flowers – neither sunshinenor music – brought any brightness to the grave faces of the fatherand son.
With slow steps they quitted the broad terrace, andentered the hall. They passed through a long suite of magnificentapartments, up the broad marble staircase, through long corridors,until they reached the picture gallery, one of the finest inEngland. Nearly every great master was represented there. Murillo,Guido, Raphael, Claude Lorraine, Salvator Rosa, Correggio, andTintoretto. The lords of Earlescourt had all loved pictures, andeach of them ad added to the treasures of that wonderfulgallery.
One portion of the gallery was set aside for theportraits of the family. Grim old warriors and fair ladies hungside by side; faces of marvelous beauty, bearing the signs of nobledescent, shone out clearly from their gilded frames.
"Look, Ronald," Lord Earle said, laying one handupon his shoulder, "you stand before your ancestors now. Yours is agrand old race. England knows and honors it. Look at these picturedfaces of the wives our fathers chose. There is Lady Sybella Earle;when one of Cromwell's soldiers drew his dagger to slay herhusband, the truest friend King Charles ever had, she flung herselfbefore him, and received the blow in his stead. She died, and helived – noble and beautiful, is she not? Now look at the LacyAlicia – this fair patrician lady smiling by the side of her grimlord; she, at the risk of her life, helped him to fly from prison,where he lay condemned to death for some great political wrong. Shesaved him, and for her sake he received pardon. Here is the LadyHelena – she is not beautiful, but look at the intellect, thequeenly brow, the soul-lit eyes! She, I need not tell you, was apoetess. Wherever the English language was spoken, her verses wereread – men were nobler and better for reading them. The ladies ofour race were such that brave men may be proud of them. Is it notso, Ronald?"
"Yes," he replied, calmly; "they were noblewomen."
Lord Earle then led his son to a large painting,upon which the western sunbeams lingered, brightening the fair facethey shone upon, until it seemed living and smiling. A deep andtender reverence stole into Lord Earle's voice as he spoke:
"No fairer or more noble woman ever ruled atEarlescourt than your mother, Ronald. She is the daughter of 'ahundred earls,' high-bred, beautiful, and refined. Now, let me askyou, in the name of common sense, do you wish to place my lodgekeeper's daughter by your mother's side? Admit that she is prettyand good – is it in the fitting order of things that she should behere?"
For the first time, in the heedless, fiery course ofhis love, Ronald Earle paused. He looked at the serene and nobleface before him, the broad brow, the sweet, arched lips, therefined patrician features, and there came to him the memory ofanother face, charming, shy and blushing, with a rustic, gracefulbeauty different from the one before him as sunlight compared tomoonlight. The words faltered upon his lips – instinctively he feltthat pretty, blushing Dora had no place there. Lord Earle lookedrelieved as he saw the doubt upon his son's face.
"You see it, Ronald," he cried. "Your idea of the'fusion' of races is well enough in theory, but it will not dobrought into practice. I have been patient with you – I havetreated you, not as a school boy whose head is half turned by hisfirst love, but as a sensible man endowed with reason and thought.Now give me a reward. Promise me here that you will make a braveeffort, give up all foolish thoughts of Dora Thorne, and not seeher again. Go abroad for a year or two – you will soon forget thisboyish folly, and bless the good sense that has saved you from it.Will you promise me, Ronald?"
"I can not, father," he replied, "for I havepromised Dora to make her my wife. I can not break my word. Youyourself could never counsel that."
"In this case I can," said Lord Earle, eagerly."That promise is not binding, even in honor; the girl herself, ifshe has any reason, can not and does not expect it."
"She believed me," said Ronald, simply. "Besides, Ilove her, father."
"Hush," replied Lord Earle, angrily, "I will listento no more nonsense. There is a limit to my patience. Once and forall, Ronald, I tell you that I decidedly forbid any mention of sucha marriage; it is degrading and ridiculous. I forbid you to marryDora Thorne; if you disobey me, you must bear the penalty."
"And what would the penalty be?" asked the heir ofEarlescourt, with a coolness and calmness that irritated thefather.
"One you would hardly wish to pay," replied theearl. "If, in spite of my prayers, entreaties, and commands, youpersist in marrying the girl, I will never look upon your faceagain. My home shall be no longer your home. You will lose my love,my esteem, and what perhaps those who have lured you to ruin mayvalue still more, my wealth. I can not disinherit you; but, if youpersist in this folly, I will not allow you one farthing. You shallbe to me as one dead until I die myself."
"I have three hundred a year," said Ronald, calmly;"that my godfather left me."
Lord Earle's face now grew white with anger.
"Yes," he replied, "you have that; it would not findyou in gloves and cigars now. But, Ronald, you can not be serious,my boy. I have loved you – I have been so proud of you – you cannot mean to defy and wound me."
His voice faltered, and his son looked up quickly,touched to the heart by his father's emotion.
"Give me your consent, father," he cried,passionately. "You know I love you, and I love Dora; I can not giveup Dora."
"Enough," said Lord Earle; "words seem useless. Youhear my final r