Roger Kyffin's Ward

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Kingston William Henry Giles. Roger Kyffin's Ward

Chapter One. A Panic in the City

Chapter Two. In which Several Personages are Introduced

Chapter Three. The Hero’s Early Days, and a Description of a Lady of Quality

Chapter Four. Harry Tryon’s First Adventure. – Lynderton and its Neighbourhood

Chapter Five. Two Young Fire-Eaters Out-Generalled

Chapter Six. Royal Visitors. – The King and the Mace-Bearer. – The Foes reconciled

Chapter Seven. A Farewell Visit. – Sad End of a Festive Scene

Chapter Eight. The Young Heiress. – Harry Comes Out in London not under the best of auspices

Chapter Nine. Played Out. – The Last Throw

Chapter Ten. Prize or Blank?

Chapter Eleven “Seeing Life in London.”

Chapter Twelve. In Dangerous Company

Chapter Thirteen. A Look at the Old Place

Chapter Fourteen. Manning the Navy in the Old Time

Chapter Fifteen. The Hero’s First Trip to Sea. – The Fate of the “Brilliant.”

Chapter Sixteen. A New Claimant for Stanmore

Chapter Seventeen. The Old Family Driven from their Home

Chapter Eighteen. On the Raft

Chapter Nineteen. The Mutiny at the Nore, and how the Hero became implicated in it

Chapter Twenty. The Mutiny Quelled

Chapter Twenty One. Mabel’s Resolve

Chapter Twenty Two. Unexpected Evidence

Chapter Twenty Three. In Mr Coppinger’s Counting-House

Chapter Twenty Four. A Ball at Stanmore, and what took Place at it

Chapter Twenty Five. A Journey, and what Befell the Travellers. – A Visit to Windsor, and its result

Chapter Twenty Six. The Prison Ship. – The Great Minister. – A Gleam of Sunshine

Chapter Twenty Seven. Silas Sleech Departs from the Scene. – How Mr Sleech enjoyed his Possession of Stanmore

Chapter Twenty Eight. The Wreck of the Lugger, and what came of it

Chapter Twenty Nine. Happy News

Отрывок из книги

Roger Kyffin took his way westward. As soon as he had got out of the crowded thoroughfares, he called a coach, for in those days walking in London was a more fatiguing operation than at present. The progress of the vehicle, however, in which he took his seat was not very rapid. It was a large and lumbering affair, drawn by a pair of broken-down hacks, the asthmatic cough of one keeping in countenance the shattered knees of the other. At length he reached the door of a substantial mansion in the middle of Clifford Street. The bell was answered by a servant in sober livery.

“Is Mr Thornborough at home?” he asked, at the same time presenting a card with his name in a bold hand written on it. The servant was absent but a short time, when he returned, saying that his master would be glad to see Mr Roger Kyffin. The visitor was shown into a handsome parlour, where, seated before a fire with his buckled shoes on a footstool, was a venerable-looking gentleman, with his silvery locks slightly powdered hanging down over his shoulders. A richly-embroidered waistcoat, a plum-coloured coat with mother-of-pearl buttons, knee breeches, and black silk stockings with clocks, completed his costume. By his side sat a lady dressed in rich garments, though of somewhat sombre hue.

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“When she comes back to her quiet home she will be as she was before,” he thought to himself, and so, though somewhat sad and disappointed, he went on hoping that he might win her affection and become her husband.

Lady Tryon was a small woman with strongly marked features, decidedly forbidding at first sight, though she possessed the art of smiling, and making herself very agreeable to her equals. She could smile especially very sweetly when she had an object to gain, or wished to be particularly agreeable; but her countenance could also assume a very different aspect when she was angry. She had bright grey eyes, which seemed to look through and through the person to whom she was speaking, while her countenance, utterly devoid of colour, was wrinkled and puckered in a curious way. She always wore rouge, and was dressed in the height of fashion. She very soon discarded her widow’s ugly cap, and the gayest, of colours decked her shrivelled form, the waist almost close up under the arms, and the dress very low, a shawl being flung over her shoulders. She could laugh and enjoy a joke, but her voice was discordant, and even when she wished to be most courteous there was a want of sincerity in its tone. Lady Tryon had been maid of honour in her youth to a royal personage, and possessed a fund of anecdote about the Court, which was listened to with respectful delight by her country neighbours. She was supposed to have very literary tastes, and to have read every book in existence. The fact was that she scarcely ever looked into one, but she picked up a semblance of knowledge, and having a retentive memory was able to make the most of any information she obtained. In the same way she had got by heart a large supply of poetry, which she was very clever in quoting, and as her audience was not often very critical, any mistakes of which she might have been guilty were rarely discovered. Her chief talent was in letter-writing, and she kept up a constant epistolary correspondence with aristocratic friends. No one could more elegantly turn a compliment or express sympathy with sorrow and disappointment. She occasionally, too, penned a copy of verses. If there was not much originality in the lines, the words were well chosen, and the metre correct. She described herself as being a warm friend and a bitter enemy. The latter she had undoubtedly proved herself on more than one occasion; but the warmth of her friendship depended rather upon the amount of advantage she was likely to gain by its exhibition than from any sensation of the heart. In fact, those who knew her best had reason to doubt whether she was possessed of that article. In reality, its temperature was, without variation, down at zero. Poor Sir Harcourt, a warmhearted man, had discovered this fact before he had been very long united to her. She, however, managed from the first to rule him with a rod of iron, and to gain her own way in everything. Most fatally had she gained it in the management of her son, whom she had utterly ruined by her pernicious system of education. Sir Harcourt endeavoured to make all the excuses for her in his power.

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