Читать книгу The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Complete - Эдвард Джордж Бульвер-Литтон, Эдвард Бульвер-Литтон - Страница 21

I was always an early riser. Happy the man who is! Every morning, day comes to him with a virgin’s love, full of bloom and purity and freshness. The youth of Nature is contagious, like the gladness of a happy child. I doubt if any man can be called “old” so long as he is an early riser and an early walker. And oh, youth!—take my word of it—youth in dressing-gown and slippers, dawdling over breakfast at noon, is a very decrepit, ghastly image of that youth which sees the sun blush over the mountains, and the dews sparkle upon blossoming hedgerows.

Passing by my father’s study, I was surprised to see the windows unclosed; surprised more, on looking in, to see him bending over his books,—for I had never before known him study till after the morning meal. Students are not usually early risers, for students, alas! whatever their age, are rarely young. Yes, the Great Book must be getting on in serious earnest. It was no longer dalliance with learning; this was work.

I passed through the gates into the road. A few of the cottages were giving signs of returning life, but it was not yet the hour for labor, and no “Good morning, sir,” greeted me on the road. Suddenly at a turn, which an over-hanging beech-tree had before concealed, I came full upon my Uncle Roland.

“What! you, sir? So early? Hark, the clock is striking five!”

“Not later! I have walked well for a lame man. It must be more than four miles to—and back.”

“You have been to—? Not on business? No soul would be up.”

“Yes, at inns there is always some one up. Hostlers never sleep! I have been to order my humble chaise and pair. I leave you today, nephew.”

“Ah, uncle, we have offended you! It was my folly, that cursed print—”

“Pooh!” said my uncle, quickly. “Offended me, boy? I defy you!” and he pressed my hand roughly.

“Yet this sudden determination! It was but yesterday, at the Roman Camp, that you planned an excursion with my father, to C——— Castle.”

“Never depend upon a whimsical man. I must be in London tonight.”

“And return to-morrow?”

“I know not when,” said my uncle, gloomily; and he was silent for some moments. At length, leaning less lightly on my arm, he continued: “Young man, you have pleased me. I love that open, saucy brow of yours, on which Nature has written ‘Trust me.’ I love those clear eyes, that look one manfully in the face. I must know more of you—much of you. You must come and see me some day or other in your ancestors’ ruined keep.”

“Come! that I will. And you shall show me the old tower—”

“And the traces of the outworks!” cried my uncle, flourishing his stick.

“And the pedigree—”

“Ay, and your great-great-grandfather’s armor, which he wore at Marston Moor—”

“Yes, and the brass plate in the church, uncle.”

“The deuce is in the boy! Come here, come here: I’ve three minds to break your head, sir!”

“It is a pity somebody had not broken the rascally printer’s, before he had the impudence to disgrace us by having a family, uncle.”

Captain Roland tried hard to frown, but he could not. “Pshaw!” said he, stopping, and taking snuff. “The world of the dead is wide; why should the ghosts jostle us?”

“We can never escape the ghosts, uncle. They haunt us always. We cannot think or act, but the soul of some man, who has lived before, points the way. The dead never die, especially since—”

“Since what, boy? You speak well.”

“Since our great ancestor introduced printing,” said I, majestically.

My uncle whistled “Malbrouk s’en va-t-en guerre.”

I had not the heart to plague him further.

“Peace!” said I, creeping cautiously within the circle of the stick.

“No! I forewarn you—”

“Peace! and describe to me my little cousin, your pretty daughter,—for pretty I am sure she is.”

“Peace,” said my uncle, smiling. “But you must come and judge for yourself.”