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But I will think of the matter further, and will write to you from abroad. In great haste, your friend, LANCELOT RANDAL. Dear Miss Feverel I must apologise for forcing you to realise once more my existence.
You hold that the young grocer should have a soul above sugar. It won't do! Take my word for it, Feverel, it's a dangerous experiment, that of bringing up flesh and blood in harness. No colt will bear it, or he's a tame beast. And look you: take it on medical grounds. Early excesses the frame will recover from: late ones break the constitution. There's the case in a nutshell. How's your son?"
He always thought on these nights of Germany Germany, Worms, the little bookseller, the distant gleam of candles in the Cathedrals, the flash of the sun through the trees over the Rhine, the crooked, cobbled streets at night with the moon like a lamp and the gabled roofs flinging wild shadows over the stones ... the night-sea brought it very close and carried Randal and Cambridge and Dahlia Feverel very far away, although he did not know why.
I'd have no woman near him till till" "Till the young greenhorn was grey, sir?" suggested Brandon. "Till he knew what women are made of, sir!" the old gentleman finished his sentence vehemently. "What, d'ye think, will Feverel say to it, Mr. Adrian?" "He has been trying the very System you have proposed sir one that does not reckon on the powerful action of curiosity on the juvenile intelligence.
Sir Austin Feverel had come to town with the serenity of a philosopher who says, 'Tis now time; and the satisfaction of a man who has not arrived thereat without a struggle. He had almost forgiven his son. His deep love for him had well-nigh shaken loose from wounded pride and more tenacious vanity.
There was this affair of Miss Feverel; probably Robin would come to him about it and then they would be able to talk. He had had that very day a letter from Dahlia Feverel. He looked at it again now; it said: "DEAR MR. TROJAN Mother and I are leaving Pendragon to-morrow for ever, I suppose but before I go I thought that I should like to send you a little line to thank you for your kindness to me.
He turned a wide eye back to the door, "Lucky for'm," he exclaimed, seeing the Bantam had vanished, for his fingers itched to break that stubborn head. He grew very puffy, and addressed Richard solemnly: "Now, look ye here, Mr. Feverel! You've been a-tampering with my witness. It's no use denyin'! I say y' 'ave, sir! You, or some of ye. I don't care about no Feverel!
If all love-making were like that between Richard Feverel and Lucy Desborough, then indeed we could not have too much of it; but to be made attractive once more, the passion must be handled by some great master who has courage to break down conventionalities and to go straight to actual life for his inspiration.
The reference here is to one of Stevenson's favorite novels The Ordeal of Richard Feverel by George Meredith. Stevenson's idolatrous praise of this particular scene in the novel is curious, for no greater contrast in English literary style can be found than that between Meredith's and his own.
Although he was alive but yesterday, the novel frequently awarded first position among his works, "The Ordeal of Richard Feverel," was published a good half century ago. The only notable change is to be found in the final group of three stories, "One of Our Conquerors," "Lord Ormont and His Aminta" and "The Amazing Marriage."
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