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But it may be doubted if the mistake of Sir Austin Feverel could be so clearly indicated had not the chance bullet of the duel killed the young wife when reconciliation with her husband appeared probable.
There was, of course, the chance that Clare had been before him, but then, as Mary had said, she had scarcely had time, and it was not likely that the girl would give them up easily. It was just possible, too, that the whole affair was a mistake, that Mrs. Feverel had merely boasted for the sake of impressing old Mrs. Bethel, that there was little or nothing behind it, but that was unlikely.
"Letitia!" mused Richard. "I like the name. Both begin with L. There's something soft womanlike in the L.'s." Material Ripton remarked that they looked like pounds on paper. The lover roamed through his golden groves. "Lucy Feverel! that sounds better! I wonder where Ralph is. I should like to help him. He's in love with my cousin Clare. He'll never do anything till he marries. No man can.
He also assured Farmer Blaize that no Feverel could be affected by his proviso. No less did Austin Wentworth. The farmer was satisfied. "Money's safe, I know," said he; "now for the 'pology!" and Farmer Blaize thrust his legs further out, and his head further back. The farmer naturally reflected that the three separate visits had been conspired together.
"Why," continued the boy, "I shall hardly be able to keep my fists off him!" "Surely you've punished him enough, boy?" said Austin. "He struck me!" Richard's lip quivered. "He dared not come at me with his hands. He struck me with a whip. He'll be telling everybody that he horsewhipped me, and that I went down and begged his pardon. Begged his pardon! A Feverel beg his pardon!
So, feeling that the situation was so absurd that argument was out of place, he began to bluster "Come now, Miss Feverel this won't do, you know! it won't really. It's too absurd quite ridiculous. Why, you forget altogether who the Trojans are! Why, we've been years and years hundreds of years! You can't intend to oppose institutions of that kind!
"If you don't get a match on to swim there with the tide eh, Feverel, my boy?" Richard replied that he had given up that sort of thing, at which Brayder communicated a queer glance to Adrian, and applauded the youth. Richmond was under a still October sun. The pleasant landscape, bathed in Autumn, stretched from the foot of the hill to a red horizon haze.
My father has suddenly got very sick with me, and says I have got to read or go down altogether; besides I am tired of doing nothing, and there are enough slackers in the college without me. We have got to pull this place together somehow." He threw himself into an arm-chair and picked up The Ordeal of Richard Feverel. "George Meredith," he said, "I tried him once," and he shook his head.
"I have been very much ashamed of myself," answered Robin. "I would make Miss Feverel any apology that is in my power, but there seems to be little that I can do." Harry said no more. "I am really sorry," said Clare at last, "to speak about a business like this just now but really there is no time to lose.
The intellectual power and the artistic skill which have been shown in the long series that has followed The Ordeal of Richard Feverel; the freshness and charm of the earlier, the strenuous workmanship and original handling of the later, novels of the author of Far from the Madding Crowd and of Tess of the D'Urbervilles, simply disable off-hand the judgment of the critic and in fact annul his jurisdiction if he fails to admire them; while in some cases universal, in many general, in all considerable and not trivial delight has been given by them to generations of novel readers.
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