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My Novel, a novel by Edward Bulwer-Lytton |
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Book 4 - Chapter 23 |
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_ BOOK FOURTH CHAPTER XXIII Mr. and Mrs. Avenel sat within the parlour, Mr. Richard stood on the hearthrug, whistling "Yankee Doodle." "The parson writes word that the lad will come to-day," said Richard, suddenly; "let me see the letter,--ay, to-day. If he took the coach as far as -------, he might walk the rest of the way in two or three hours. He should be pretty nearly here. I have a great mind to go and meet him: it will save his asking questions, and hearing about me. I can clear the town by the back way, and get out at the high road." "You'll not know him from any one else," said Mrs. Avenel. "Well, that is a good one! Not know an Avenel! We've all the same cut of the jib,--have we not, Father?" Poor John laughed heartily, till the tears rolled down his cheeks. "We were always a well-favoured fam'ly," said John, recomposing himself. "There was Luke, but he's gone; and Harry, but he's dead too; and Dick, but he's in Amerikay--no, he's here; and my darling Nora, but--" "Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Avenel; "hush, John!" The old man stared at her, and then put his tremulous hand to his brow. "And Nora's gone too!" said he, in a voice of profound woe. Both hands then fell on his knees, and his head drooped on his breast. Mrs. Avenel rose, kissed her husband on the forehead, and walked away to the window. Richard took up his hat and brushed the nap carefully with his handkerchief; but his lips quivered. "I 'm going," said he, abruptly. "Now mind, Mother, not a word about uncle Richard yet; we must first see how we like each other, and--[in a whisper] you'll try and get that into my poor father's head?" "Ay, Richard," said Mrs. Avenel, quietly. Richard put on his hat and went out by the back way. He stole along the fields that skirted the town, and had only once to cross the street before he got into the high road. He walked on till he came to the first milestone. There he seated himself, lighted his cigar, and awaited his nephew. It was now nearly the hour of sunset, and the road before him lay westward. Richard, from time to time, looked along the road, shading his eyes with his hand; and at length, just as the disk of the sun had half sunk down the horizon, a solitary figure came up the way. It emerged suddenly from the turn in the road; the reddening beams coloured all the atmosphere around it. Solitary and silent it came as from a Land of Light. _ |
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