Richard Carvel — Complete eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 713 pages of information about Richard Carvel — Complete.

Richard Carvel — Complete eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 713 pages of information about Richard Carvel — Complete.

The deserters were coming back to the ranks, indeed, and North and Dyson and Weymouth had ceased to look haggard, and were wreathed in smiles.  In vain did Mr. Burke harangue them in polished phrase.  It was a language North and Company did not understand, and cared not to learn.  Their young champion spoke the more worldly and cynical tongue of White’s and Brooks’s, with its shorter sentences and absence of formality.  And even as the devil can quote Scripture to his purpose, Mr. Fox quoted history and the classics, with plenty more that was not above the heads of the booted and spurred country squires.  And thus, for the third time, he earned the gratitude of his gracious Majesty.

“Well, Richard,” said he, slipping his arm through mine as we came out into Parliament Street, “I promised you some sport.  Have you enjoyed it?”

I was forced to admit that I had.

“Let us to the ‘Thatched House,’ and have supper privately,” he suggested.  “I do not feel like a company to-night.”  We walked on for some time in silence.  Presently he said: 

“You must not leave us, Richard.  You may go home to see your grandfather die, and when you come back I will see about getting you a little borough for what my father paid for mine.  And you shall marry Dorothy, and perchance return in ten years as governor of a principality.  That is, after we’ve ruined you at the club.  How does that prospect sit?”

I wondered at the mood he was in, that made him choose me rather than the adulation and applause he was sure to receive at Brooks’s for the part he had played that night.  After we had satisfied our hunger,—­for neither of us had dined,—­and poured out a bottle of claret, he looked up at me quizzically.

“I have not heard you congratulate me,” he said.

“Nor will you,” I replied, laughing.

“I like you the better for it, Richard.  ’Twas a damned poor performance, and that’s truth.”

“I thought the performance remarkable,” I said honestly.

“Oh, but it was not,” he answered scornfully.  “The moment that dun-coloured Irishman gets up, the whole government pack begins to whine and shiver.  There are men I went to school with I fear more than Burke.  But you don’t like to see the champion of America come off second best.  Is that what you’re thinking?”

“No.  But I was wondering why you have devoted your talents to the devil,” I said, amazed at my boldness.

He glanced at me, and half laughed again.

“You are cursed frank,” said he; “damned frank.”

“But you invited it.”

“Yes,” he replied, “so I did.  Give me a man who is honest.  Fill up again,” said he; “and spit out all you would like to say, Richard.”

“Then,” said I, “why do you waste your time and your breath in defending a crew of political brigands and placemen, and a king who knows not the meaning of the word gratitude, and who has no use for a man of ability?  You have honoured me with your friendship, Charles Fox, and I may take the liberty to add that you seem to love power more than spoils.  You have originality.  You are honest enough to think and act upon your own impulses.  And pardon me if I say you have very little chance on that side of the house where you have put yourself.”

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Richard Carvel — Complete from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.